cygnoir.net

cygnoir.net

to be moved

I hadn’t thought of you in a while, and right when I saw the lanky brunette swivel sideways in her plastic seat to let someone out, I thought of you, your skin and hair and bones, so taut and shiny. You were the epitome of “girl” in my world and if I had a crush on you –     we all did – it was because I couldn’t take you apart. I couldn’t see your separate parts.
You were effortless and your cigarettes always lit the first time, and I hated your perfect breasts framed by your crisp denim jacket.

After we fought, and after you left because we fought, you became the woman on the train, older and harder and still unwilling to get up for anyone, to move or to be moved. She swiveled and I saw the back of your jacket, smelling of Tide and smoke and grain alcohol, of pride. Of what I thought you would give me. Of what I thought I had earned.

– Halsted M. Bernard

← An IndieWeb Webring πŸ•ΈπŸ’ β†’

I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.

∞