Got it bad for a girl who lives where the cold wind blows. sometimes she writes to tell me how she dreams of my summer skin warm with the glow. how she misses me and if I do too? … my girl she is good at archery, with arrows poisoned tipped and with the long con. I always fall.
In her dreams there are no nets and in mine there are no
goodbyes. There is the start of something, many words, long pauses. We
meet and as soon try to forget. Our fuck is a drug. She is my love and
my enemy. We have everything. Then nothing.
This is how we forget:
We finish what we do and say our goodbyes. It’s part of the deal to bury our secrets like the dead.
I lose another piece of myself. The time it took to swim to you, to kiss, to fuck, to heal.
My head feels hot . I have a fever. I walk around trying to shake off
the heart attack. Im long down the highway before my pulse is back to
normal. The feeling lasts for days. The mind doesn’t want to forget.
The body never forgets. I’ll remember how good you felt years later.
The words and the silences.