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.
