Meet Me in the Poetry Section

{Will I ever see you again?}

Its non-venial to admit we met like millennials. Riffling through vile profiles and stifling from trifling faces full of denial. Kicking down doors and snapping hinges. Lost roaming in unknown fringes. My eyes assaulted and halted, by a feminine specimen, possessing a smile so genuinely samaritan. My sight in the clutches of her luscious melanin and heart quivering like gelatin at her text statin’, “I’ll be in the poetry corner.”

I equip a Lyft and drift towards “Powell’s Bookstore,” grinning hard, face sore. Heart shaking my core as I’m stepping through the front doors. “Poetry is over yonder and good luck foreigner!” I wonder to the back corner, looking dapper but feeling like a disorder. Weak in the knees, I almost fell, seeing her radiance dwell between the staggering bookshelves. A quick and cute “Hey, you (:” spewed out us two. Stuck on her smile that struck me like a truck charging down the aisle, I advised we conduct the interview outside and “exchange words over a few.” “No way you too!?” a phrase constantly repeated from us two. Laughing in unison, gingerly brushing each other’s skin, I ask, “Will I ever see you again?”

“I’m here on business, I leave in a few days.” Frayed wishing I could prolong my stay. I’m purloined and caught at how we’re conjoined at the thought. Staring into the windows of each other’s soul, playfully giggling, I’m slowly losing control. So I shout, “Let’s galivant about! But, id like to drop off my belongings somewhere safe.” Surprised to hear her say, “Well, we’re pretty close to my place…”

Long story short, we reach the fort. Escorted to the eleventh door on the second floor, and don’t implore to know more… We both came to conclusions, to elude from this “illusion.” Yet, my inquiry remains, “Will I ever see you again?”

Hooked by an unfamiliarly inviting smile and shook to know this won’t happen again, even in a while…

{Will I ever see you again?}


Swipe Right

[Here I cum]

Taking and making it literal, lyrics to a track, one constantly and thoroughly listened to. Flavourful, sweet, possessing tantalizing beats and backed with mercenary MCs, Selfish by Slum Village gave guidance to the obsolete. Not proper in morality but kept one propped on two feet. Storming through, cashing checks and snapping emotional necks. Though recognizing the danger and fear of being sucked in, neither nearly as severe to keep this one from sliding in. Tangled in the veins of separate hearts. However, decisions shall be made, and those plural hearts will minimize to one, maybe none. The idea of hurting others is what makes this one sputter. “Never compare women and have to choose between them,” mother yells into one’s eardrums. Sparking tinder, near a bumble hive. Connections, emoji flames and bees, burned and buzzed their way onto my cellphone screen.

Yet hearts will be broken, and the world will keep turning. Spinning out of control, I’m dizzy.