About that


About that.  


The sun is behind him,

And I squint and squish my eyes to slits to look at him

With back lit shadows blocked across his face.

He stands there, arms at his side, left leg weight bearing

And rambles on about something I stopped listening to

After he said ‘Obviously’ for the second time.  


There’s something there.  How about that?


I raise my hand to shield it from the sun,

And am able to see his face clearer now, just in time

To see his mouth shift into a triangle shaped smile.

I cock my head to the side

And hope the change will correct my view askewed

With eyebrows furrowed.


Hmph… How about that?


“What are you looking at?” he asks

And my stomach has plummeted to my knees

That suddenly haven’t the strength to hold me upright.

I take a single step back to shift my balance

And to get some distance

From what seems to be right in front of me.


Fuck… how about that?


In youth we learn our lessons

And apply them to our future,

Told that hurt makes us stronger.

So, we learn to mistrust what we are given

And stop giving since we’re not trusted

But still question everyone’s motives.

We change our game from Truth or Dare

To ‘Who Said I Fucking Care’

And then question why we feel empty.

Dodge and weave, duck and cover

And never be the first to make the move

Because we just don’t have the time for that.


He takes two steps towards me

And touches my arm

In a way that’s more habit than instinct.

‘Are you alright?’ he asks

And I nod my head with enthusiasm

‘Just the sun in my eye’ I say


Game face on. How about that.


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