When We Went To Get Coffee

you wore blue, and it reflected your eyes so evenly that I couldn’t bear to look straight at you for fear that I’d get sucked in. Stronger than my caramel latte, you smelled like marijuana and sin and all the girls who had known you before me. You were the first puzzle I didn’t give up on after I finished the border. If you were a documentary on toenail clippings, I’d watch you all the way to the end, and then rewind. I will never stop wondering why I ran away from you; but if, in the future, we go to get coffee, I hope you wear blue again.