CRUSH

I spend the morning in an afterglow, swept up in bed sheets, the night on repeat. A little dizzy, a little punch-drunk, lovesick, drug sick, woozy. Headache, heartache, stomach weak and I’ve lost count of how many cigarettes we shared last night, but where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Blue flame, red lips. Early hours, steal a kiss. I’m fractured, I’m forgetting. Every tiny detail I’ve tried to remember, slipping through my fingers like the vodka tonic I let spill over the bar from my plastic cup and if looks could kill, that soda jerk would be behind steel bars instead. 

We spiral through the night, together, apart, the street, a runway and we’re runaways, you and me both. Far from home, far from everything we think we know. Banded together in the smoke, in the smog, in the streetlights. There are no stars in the sky, but there are stars in the city. You and I. My God, I wish you’d hurry up and kiss me. 

I replay our encounters, over and over, a brush on the shoulder, a cool touch, a glance. There you were by the bar, in the dark, on the dance floor. There you were walking cool grey pavements, sleepy eyed in the sunrise. There you are in the haze, deep in conversation, voice like honey, sinking into the familiarity of your living room. Do you ever sleep? There you were at my peripherals, looming, living, again and again. Snapshots I store carefully, compartmentalise. No fingerprints, please. Clean, safe, unobscured by wild nights and cheap wine. You look pretty in those Polaroids. You look pretty when you’re high. You look pretty all the time. 

Sun’s up, night bus and I fall asleep to the gentle hum of the engine, head heavy on your shoulder. The world is revolving without us, around us. The people are spinning, cars rush, flat white, brief case, pinstripes. Zoom. Another day, another dollar, another cog in the machine. We are far removed for a second. Orbit. Our own private oblivion. We are different, suspended, a new dimension, operating by our own rules and at the tip of my drug-laced tongue I can taste freedom. I can taste the tobacco of a ten pack of menthols and all those things I hate to love and my mouth is full of things I haven’t told you yet. Sweet, ripe, plump, round. Any moment now. I bet your lips taste just like peaches. Everything we like is bad for us.

This happens every weekend, I end up where you are. I catch a glimpse of something new, I take away a piece of you, to gloss over for the week, mind filled up in intrigue and I’m too shy to steal a kiss, too doubtful to read into this. Doe eyed, hopeful, baby doll. You get a little closer, I get a little further away. Always reeling through my mind to find the words to say. Mind blank, body freeze. I think we’re as cold as each other. I think we’ve built our walls too high. I think I’m terrible at reading people. I think I’m terrible with thinking you could feel the same. And I hope you don’t feel my eyes burning through your skin. I am my father's daughter, I'm sorry, I know I can be intense. Subtext, pretext, squinting past the pretense. Femme fatale, charades, facade. Another line but I can’t read between them. Another drink but I don’t really need them. 

You are better than a dream. You’re from a world I’ve never been. Ethereal, unreal. Paths crossed, tangled, intertwined. I can’t tell if I want to love you or fuck you or be your best friend. But I can tell you I never want these nights to end and something tells me they won’t. Something tells me there’s a reason here. A reason, a season, a lifetime. Unclear. Cosmic timing. Serendipitous. A green shoot, a spark, a seed has been planted. We’ll have everything we’ve ever wanted. Worlds collide and I don’t know if you’ll ever be mine, I don’t think I even mind. Just let me swim inside your head a while, deep end, dive in, freestyle. Where do you go when your mind runs wild? Tell me your fears, your dreams, all those mediocre things. Fleeting thoughts, ephemeral, I promise I’d like to know it all and I promise I’ll be here when those walls come down. I’ve been taking chances like they’re vitamins. Come here, let me tell you how I feel now.