The Idea of You
A deep brown collar, lurking from
underneath the green plaid coat.
A smirk on your face, as you turned
the page of your favorite book. “To
define is to limit”, I feel my maroon
muffler tighten around you in a
pursuit to choke me, but I resist. I
resist your raspy voice, your stubble
trimmed to perfection, your quoting
of Fitzgerald and Wilde, you, I'm trying
to resist you. There's something deeply
intriguing when we dissect the movies
that we watch. I swear, my heart
fluctuates when we leave one another
notes where mine consists of all the
books you should read and yours are
filled with words describing your last
bowel movement. Last night, we danced
to Johann Pachelbel while you whispered
Rilke in my ears. Did I tell you that we
were communicating with our eyes, but
your eyes somehow spoke fluent
German? But I'm resisting you, I'm
trying. I manchmal stand in stillness
and wonder if you can listen to my
silence. “The only way to get rid of
temptation is to yield to it.” I hate it when
you take Dorian gray as an excuse to
solve, almost all of our problems.
People just laugh around you, the mom
-ents stop and look at the vision that is
you and I, I stand here, motionless, com
-posing my body, my brain, my heart, my
gentle gentle heart. Alas, it's time for me
to wake up.
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