I thought leaving you
would be easy, just walking out the door, but I keep
getting pinned against it with my legs around your waist.
And it's like my lips want you like my lungs want air,
it’s just what they where born to do. So I am sitting at
work thinking of you, cutting vegetables in my kitchen,
your hair in my shower drain, your fingers on my spine in
the morning while we listen to Muddy Waters. I know you
will never be the one I call home, but the way you talk
about poems like marxists talk of revolution it makes me
want to keep trying. I’m still looking for reasons to
love you. I'm still looking for proof you love
me.
Clementine Von
Radics