Empire Of The Senseless

Blue button up, white under shirt. Of course she’s a librarian. What’s a boy to do? Sit. Write. Think more than I need to. I’m always thinking too much. She’s boyish. I like boys? Wait. I’m not gay. But I guess I am a lesbian. Ha! Here’s one, who the fuck cares. I look for the lights that dance around the skin, glowing off souls. I see baby blue. I see three buttons undone. I see curly brown. I see a strange reflection. I see a memory. Familiarity. I see hands that have touched me. I hear a voice that has held the weight of my own when I hadn’t a word left in the whole world. I want her eyes. I’m not wearing my glasses; I can’t see anything but colors. I see red running down porcelain thighs. I hear too many worthless apologies. No, you’re not sorry. You are welcome to stain my sheets my love. I see purple, dark straps keep my boots tight against slippery plastic. Pedal pedal pedal, splash! I hit every puddle. What are you sorry for? For fuck sake! If any one should be tripping over dumb apologies, it’s me; I