05.28.20 | 1001 am

driftwood, washed ashore on a Tahitian beach

i conditioned my lips, hoping he’d want to kiss them -
this proxy, stand-in, substitute for you.
his face was sweet, his green eyes soft.
not unlike yours, though i’ve not gazed into them myself.
he wore a grey beanie and sat facing me, cross-legged.
i bit my lip and tapped my leg.
god, please kiss me.
but please, please, don’t try to kiss me, either.
for i don’t know if i will melt into him, eyes closed
and allow myself to be transported in the moment
to a dingy van outside some rock venue in Middle America
or if instead i will just give my heart away, anew
and leave you here
driftwood, washed ashore on a Tahitian beach.