"I’m sorry you were a coward.
I know how sharp that sounds,
but even now I have dreams where I
slip..."
“I’m sorry you were a coward.
I know how sharp that sounds,
but even now I have dreams where I
slip under your skin; I paint cherry red on my lips
and think of leaving it on your hipbones
like a map of all the ways to leave you breathless.
I think of kissing a concerto of you.
I think of making us breakfast,
but only when I’m lonely.
And that isn’t fair to either of us. Still -
I’ve been having dreams about your mouth lately.
I swear, some of my dreams are innocent,
but I don’t wake up crying from the dreams
where you take my clothes off, so I’d rather
talk about those instead.
As much as I wish there wasn’t,
there’s still some part that’s just
a little bit in love and she wants
to road trip up to see you. She’s
packaging kisses to send through FedEx.
She forgets the hard parts:
how I was always making room
for all the creaking clanking aches in you
and smuggling my own out the window.
If this wasn’t going to work anyway,
I’m sorry that you’re sorry. Because
I would never be this heartsick for a boy
who meant to hurt me, but of course
you did it unwittingly. You’re just
a clumsy wrong step in a long line
of blundered feelings, so I’m never going
to be able to hate you for it.
In my dreams you are still so soft.
I would have been happy to love you for it.”
-
I know how sharp that sounds,
but even now I have dreams where I
slip under your skin; I paint cherry red on my lips
and think of leaving it on your hipbones
like a map of all the ways to leave you breathless.
I think of kissing a concerto of you.
I think of making us breakfast,
but only when I’m lonely.
And that isn’t fair to either of us. Still -
I’ve been having dreams about your mouth lately.
I swear, some of my dreams are innocent,
but I don’t wake up crying from the dreams
where you take my clothes off, so I’d rather
talk about those instead.
As much as I wish there wasn’t,
there’s still some part that’s just
a little bit in love and she wants
to road trip up to see you. She’s
packaging kisses to send through FedEx.
She forgets the hard parts:
how I was always making room
for all the creaking clanking aches in you
and smuggling my own out the window.
If this wasn’t going to work anyway,
I’m sorry that you’re sorry. Because
I would never be this heartsick for a boy
who meant to hurt me, but of course
you did it unwittingly. You’re just
a clumsy wrong step in a long line
of blundered feelings, so I’m never going
to be able to hate you for it.
In my dreams you are still so soft.
I would have been happy to love you for it.”
-
TROUBLE IS, YOU’RE STILL EXACTLY THE PERSON I FELL IN LOVE WITH, Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
This poem is available in my second book, Wrong Side of a Fistfight!
Published on October 27, 2015 17:08
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