i would never admit to anyone

but coffee stained notebooks

and the anonymous white screen

that i think of you. sometimes

i try and hide it even from myself.



if i could believe

that you lie awake at night

and stare at the ceiling with your hands

behind your head and think of my smile

and feel your heart clench

and have to curl your toes and bite your lip

to stop yourself from screaming,

then i think i could sleep a little better.



but knowing i am alone

and crying over a boy

with a hundred girls' kisses

on his shirt collar and condoms

carpeting the floor of his car

is like sticking needles into the webbing

between the fingers.

only worse.



i sink myself in boys with eyes the colour

of mediterranean storms

and pretend that i threw my feelings for you away

like chewing gum wrapped in yesterday's bus ticket.



i try and hide the memory of your

fingers running through my hair

and the feel of your sheets on my skin

in porchway kisses from boys with dirty hair

and dirty little secrets scarred into their shoulder blades.



i have drowned myself in vodka

and laughed too loud for months

in the hope that i can fade out your voice

and your music and your smell from my memory

but nothing has ever been so clear.



your name is always in my mind,

pounding behind my eyes,

against the inside of my skull.

and you wouldn't recognize me

if i danced around your room at midnight,

wearing nothing but a smile.