Friday, January 22, 2010

I thought I tasted of too many cigarettes

"Haunted"
keep art alive; art by Joao Ruas

"You're not supposed to be here at all,
it's all been a gorgeous mistake;
sick one or clean one,
the best one,
that god ever made."

Jump In The River :: Sinead O'Connor

A coin-operated photobooth look on your face, and that Cheshire Cat grin that you'd perfected so well, even at such a young age; well, darling, I should have known better.

You came to my door at way too late an hour to be mistaken as just a friend, a stack of photographs and a mixed tape in hand saying you were "just in the neighborhood", and I chose to pretend, to believe, to oblige you.

You smelled like freshly washed laundry and that kind of "I still live at home" clean that boys your age had long lost, and damn, you had such gorgeous eyes.

I smelled like cigarettes and borrowed department store perfume.

We shared a bottle of wine and sat uncomfortably close on the couch, our hands fidgeting and our eyes shying away, as we tried not to mention her name. You finally did, claiming newly-found freedom, and a sudden undying love for me.

I knew you were lying, but right then, that night, I needed to believe it.

Your kisses were the only ones I would ever look back on and honestly regret. But right then, that night, I would have done anything with you.

"And if you said jump in the river I would,
because it would probably be a good idea."

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