I’m on one uncomfortable bus ride.

And I’m sharing my life with a stranger.

I don’t think he cares,

But he acts like he does.

“It’s alright, baby…”

His violating tongue.

“Tell me all about it…”

He smells like you.

Like red-circles;

(symbolic red: anger/life/love)

(symbolic circles: for eternity)

But that’s besides the point.

---

So I’m telling him my life

Beginning with my birth

And near-death experiences.

My best friends.

My worst friends.

Funny anecdotes;

And he laughs and nods

When I tell him about

My synesthesia as a small child.

It’s almost like he understands,

Like how you do.

(I focus on you too much

this isn’t your story,

it’s his)

---

I tell him about my life so far.

And how entangled it’s gotten.

I tell him about my life so far.

Pointless things like the stuff I’ve bought and ate.

I tell him about my life so far.

But I can’t seem to stop talking about you.

I decide to share my heartbreak.

Little-kid’s wishes;

I’ll marry her someday!

I decide to share my sadness,

We’re doomed for each other.

He thinks it’s sweet;

In a way.

---

His eyes almost look like yours

Except they need some more

Brown in the center

And the spackle to the side.

He is oh-so-sweet;

But it’s just not the same.

I think that maybe he can ‘improv’

And play your part;

With a creeping arm

And drowsy eyes.

Like how yours look

After you've realized what we’ve done.

---

This play is going astray.

Because his stomach doesn’t feel the same.

And his hair doesn’t do the same things.

And our skin’s contrasts are too little.

And his personality is too much.

And it’s not the same.

Not the same.

Not the same.

I tried, though

And I’ve failed.

Again.

You’re everywhere in me.

---

“Every time I comb my hair

Thoughts of you get in my eyes.”

-- “erotic city” by prince