I walk in and you are there.
Actually, I walk in last if you are there.
Because I want to be the last person you see,
say hello to, maybe hug. Maybe plant a kiss on my cheek
half-embracing me with your forearms against my biceps
and your hands grappling gentle, and your hair:
waves dark and the sweetly smell I am caught in.
The air I kiss instead of your cheek.
I miss because I'm nervous. And I wish I could try again.
Because I see you so once in a while and the whiles seem so long.
I walk in last so we'll be alone,
no one behind me, everyone behind you. Everyone seeing and hearing
but you, like an eclipse, are all.
For a few seconds they are gone and--
maybe you came to our friend's house for his party because of me.
You scanned the line as we entered, and the cold breeze blushing on your cheek
was really the warm red of your smile when you saw me step in.
Over the others' cold shoulders, your almond eyes sometimes sleepy
were looking at me not looking. Maybe.
Those few seconds, my shaky courage: fast beating bass against my chest
so loud only your voice can be heard like the melody of full-lips against a microphone.
For those few seconds we are an indie song.
Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. You're crazy awesome like Karen O.
For those few seconds we are a rap song.
Your Love by Nicki Minaj. Like Nicki, you're the illest.
Those few seconds in between cold street and warm living room,
between cold and warm bodies,
the confession in my head slightly slanting and
the mystery behind your closing eyes when you smile.
Between what I want to say and the real words that I allow.
Between you and me: just maybe.
Maybe next time, after this long while,
I'll walk in first. Step into the between us,
my shaky courage and real words,
I'll sing my confession to your closing eye smile.
You'll blush a warm red.
I won't miss.
And for those few seconds,
with nothing between but everything in front of us..