I Spend Most NightsTrying Pt. II.
I.
Your fingers danced on my knees so gracefully.
they knew their stage well,
the had danced there many times before
but never so freely,
this was the first time we had ever been alone.
II.
There was a band aid on your finger and
you told me about some sander wheel,
or something or the other.
I showed you my scars from a previous job
but we only discussed the scars
that were visible to the eye.
I’m still convinced
you wouldn’t understand
the ones that lay beneath.
III.
The bar lights had a blueish tint;
while we waited for our drinks
I watched them
gently grace your brow,
you smiled.
You have such a genuine smile,
it always seems to whisper, “come closer,”
even without a spoken word,
IV.
You pulled my hands into yours
and asked why they were always cold.
I thought it was because
most of my time, I spend alone.
Just the thought of being alone made me
kiss you, and wish to own you
for just one liquor filled, cold handed, blue tinted moment.
V.
As much as try to fight the idea of you,
and I fight it with both fist up,
as if to prevent you from hurting me
before you even try.
I’m starting to notice your absence
and even have come to detest it at times.