Calvin Klein (he’s my man)

14 Mar

Right now I’m sitting in on a call internally laughing about you in your shiny Calvin Klein underwear, posing like the model that you are with your high cheekbones and soft, thick lips curling in an arrogant smile.

I love you this way, playful, pleasing, posing for my joy, teetering on the edge of your past, turning it into our own private joke that brings laughter in the space of your goneness.

Let’s tell our stories to eachother, take our pain and flip it upside, repackage it so that we can fuel our own myths about past impossibilities that were once our realities, asking the other”who were those people?” that lived life without the other.

How funny, really, that there was a time of tiny underwear and locked convenience stores, of regret and destruction.

So take my hand and dance on our ruins, together always until we dissolve every moment that isn’t now; that isn’t those people who were lone columns holding up structures that didn’t house anything.

 

 

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