You

and so many things remind me of you

always of you, and you, and you

i’m reminded of your hands, and the way your neck curves to meet your shoulders

the way my shirt hangs off of you like its ten sizes too big

the way your face looks when you’re in your element, and I can’t think because all I can see is beauty

and talent

and im blinded by how you walk like the ground is made of air,

im winded, by how you speak like your words are made of honey,

how they wash over me and leave me wanting more

and when we lay together, on your floor, listening to angel clare and thinking seperately about the future….

Whether or not it will be ours…

or yours, and mine

and suddenly we’re not next to each other, but tangled up in the messes of our individual minds

awash in the aftermath of the clash of you and me,

we

the most beautiful word where you’re concerned

and all I can think of in that moment is

you, and you, and you

This poem is about: 
Me

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