I think about kissing you
I wonder if you think about it too
We were waiting outside to go dancing I was high and
you were laughing at me shining eyes and smiling all teeth
We drove home the next night with me behind the driver’s seat of your car because
my mom gave you too much Benadryl. Why couldn’t you stop petting the dogs?
It’s the way you tell me to stop flirting with you every time I whisper in your ear but
why would I stop if you’re still biting your lip? I no longer pretend to feel offended when
people mistake us as lovers instead of friends. We laugh it off but I see your eyes linger
the way mine do after we say goodbye. Our stories are told in tandem I don’t know the last time you weren’t the first person I called. I stared at your shirtless body in the mirror when you had your back turned to me. Are you afraid to face me because my looks will remind you of your fathers? Of where he put his hands?
Men like him are herms.
Daisy your dad didn’t mean it when he said I love you with the lights off, but I do. Daisy you don’t have to say it back right now but your neighbors with the motorcycle keep making weird faces when I shout it to you from the stairs. And this isn’t some grand gesture but you won’t stop putting space between us
Why do you have my schedule tacked to your bedroom wall if you don’t care where I am?