Behind. My Back.

I spent a long time in front of the mirror,

reminding myself that someone would take a second look

on the corner of tonight and tomorrow

It was the back end of a Friday and I was grateful for my youth,

for what was left of it,

and of the feeling of looking forward to buckling my knees involuntarily

There was the sound of 80s rock wafting down my semicircular canal the moment I laid eyes on you,

and you hoarded your smiles, letting them hibernate for minutes at a time,

and just when I knew you were looking away, I counted it an invitation,

and I knew I was right when you laughed at something that wasn't [all] that funny

You were the cause of the beads of sweat on the back of my neck,

and despite my wiping it clean,

you were mesmeric to me,

and I wanted to show you how much I loved the color pink,

and I wanted to share a room with you during the party, where we could hear the simmering sounds of lightning bugs and drunkards hitting paper Chinese lanterns for sport,

and I wanted oh so badly

for you to talk about me when I wasn't around