It’s your last semester here, have I used you enough?
I woke up.
I swear I was regurgitated
All across the pink bed sheets
Your smell is still lingering.
Droplets of adolescent sweat
Still glaz the window sills
I talk to the pillows about
Voluntary flu shots
And science fiction movies
Inches separate our gazes
In a died down party scene
And I’m asking, will you be my muse?
Do you want to ache like me?
We always sing such pretty sonnets
But words won’t sail us through sunrise.
And I agreed,
You are the dusk in my metropolis
A landscape deep as skin.
If you get closer, I will condemn you to a story
Keep you smiling there, strategically
And marvel over the photographs you took
Where the lighting was soft and my skin was exposed
Because if you ever escaped my selective perception,
Our mockery of feeling,
You might become real.
But you know,
I don’t submit to that kind of boredom.
Where the shutter speed is swift
And props enhance the scenery
I’ll worship your memory here
Where the barrel of a gun always faces your heart
Take two steps, and whatever we have built,
I’ll blow it apart.