GETTING TO TWENTY

He’s always walking into my dreamscapes uninvited
It’s like he lives in my subconscious
Waiting to seep out like weakness

My frenzied mind shoots arrows in the sky
Directing them inward would probably be painful
So I let them slide

Ironing out the creases in my skirt
Felt like putting the folds of my mind on trial
But without the pinstripes

That hazy-real encounter did another number on me
So I tried to count backwards to zero
I got to twenty

The rock beats in time with my chest
And I feel the backwards pulse through my hands
It’s pinkish hue a reflection of the place that it rests
But without all the bleeding

The trip in was nothing
The waiting room was as empty as my expectations and desires
She was late
Just enough time to listen to my slowing heart
And songs containing secret messages
We had honesty in common

Rushing to him could have broken my neck
And looking for him was like
Looking for a reason I didn’t know I needed
I was late
Just enough time for him to capture unsuspecting victims
With his unsettling presence

The profanities we shared
Echoed in the most inappropriate places
Zero fucks given
I didn’t even look out of the corner of my eye
Not even once

Our matching grey, black and white pinstripes
Remind me of our parallel lives
And the coffee I didn’t buy
I gave away all of my change
For immunity from kamikaze sparrows

Just when I thought Mr Dreamy was gone
He resurrects his head in the form of a year-old memory
Made from 19 days of the most intense mirror
To ever lay its words on me.

I danced alone on my way home

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