cinematic lovers

when i think of you

i think of firsts and lasts

i think of teary 4am i love you's

i can still smell the scent of insecurity lingering on your clothes like cigarette smoke

when i think of you

i think of frantic backseat lovemaking, which was somehow the best kind

i think of the quick switch of not being able to take our hands off each other to avoiding eye contact

i can still feel the betrayal bubbling in my chest like molten lava

when i think of you

i think of white teeth like the picket fence i thought you could provide me with

i think of you still loving her too much to love me even a little

i can still taste the bitterness of almost's and could've's

when i think of you

i think of incoherently intoxicated text messages, laced with vodka shots and double entendres

i think of bones visible beneath iridescent skin

i can still hear your life story dripping from your lips like poison and like honey

but no matter how sweet the memories

no matter how far i reach out towards your images

you are nothing more than figures on a three-dimensional screen

a movie of my past love lives playing over and over and over on repeat

with a million different soundtracks

a thousand different orchestras building

all up to the same crescendo

all up to the black screen of our separate endings

and when the credits roll in

i will think only of myself

i will think of walls of cluttered photographs

i will think of arms littered with quotes scribbled in black pen

and, most importantly,

i will not think of you.


Em Anekaf

This is horrifyingly beautiful

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