Sex in the morning, Valentine's candy.
Red roses blooming in the Bluecoat bottle.
Could I be one of these people?
Grow into love like a crocus through the snow.
For a moment, I think it.
But oh!
All the girls, their long legs in stockings,
high-heeled shoes, lingerie shopping,
long dark curls across white hotel pillows.
Men with worn hands
and wide, boyish smiles,
door holding at grocery stores
long looks across Christmas lit parties.
Musicians I'm always crushing on,
the one it's not impossible
will one day kiss me under fireworks.
long fingers tracing my iliac crests.
Twenty-two year-olds with close-shaved heads
The faces they make to look sexy in pictures.
Boys and the smoke, the bars and the drugs,
Trains, and crashing in anyone's bed,
kissing a stranger for the poetry of it,
going to sleep alone, and happy.
All this beauty and potential
build a river between us
I cannot bridge,
he will not swim across.
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