CRUSH

by Nicole Toivonen





sunlight blinds me
bleaching my eyes to white
devoid of colour
yet my vision remains clear
i connect the dots in my chipboard ceiling
waiting for
ice green
eyes to surface above me
brilliant as nuclear winter
in the darkness
shadows carve ridges, lines, contours
into his face
creating the ideal
blond hair covering, hiding
i don't have the key to the
encoded messages within
what does it mean to you
when i sleep in your bed-
lie beside you
and bolt in confusion
claming the need to sleep at home
interest imagined or
perhaps-
i think too much.
feels like a last chance
or maybe
the first-
something tangible
before me
out of respect, i will not touch
questions left unanswered
the energy, vaguely manic, dissapates.
i try to connect the dots
in the shape of your name.





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