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.