I’m the woman you don’t know you wanna be with yet

love, poetry, sex

Standing in your American Psycho-style kitchen
eating pizza at 2 a.m.
You’re not a touchy person, you say
and you don’t hold me like men usually do
after sex
but you talk to me and ask me questions
it seems, for now, that’s enough
neither of us came here for love
or maybe we’re both lying

You don’t squeeze your tube of toothpaste
in the middle
and you say you’d let your children
cry themselves to sleep
so that they can become independent adults
are you truly that distant or simply afraid
you’d say you’re rational or type A
and consider it a compliment
I an insult

I said we’re different once
you said, some would say complementary
I think maybe just different

But I still wonder
looking at the bruise on my arm
and standing on the balcony, watching
cars and communist buildings
and thinking, what if we both got out of here
would we still be different
or would I be new?
And would you know then
that I’m the woman you want to be with
and you are the man who might not bore me
for a while, at least

I thought I had stopped living
when you shook me awake
Abruptly, throwing me down on the bed
you said you had a lot of friends who
are working hard and going nowhere
and you weren’t talking about me
but I’m annoyed
it took a man to point it out

You don’t move in bed at night at all
you sleep like a vampire
It’s the first time I called a man smarter than me
but you think Jordan Peterson is intriguing
so I might have to revisit that statement
you’re puzzling

I think that love is all that matters in the end
but you’re all logic and intellect
let go, live a little, get that stick n poke
I bet you hate I’m writing about you
you’re the one who dated a songwriter
and at least I can say
that we shared mostly just good things
I hope I’ll see you again one day
and that you’ll stay (a little longer)

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