...we were so drunk we couldn't ride a bike. Drunk and happy. Happy and close. Close and cold.Cold and lost.Lost and Horny, between stations, and empty corridors. Alone among hobos and professional lonely people.
We just sit there, killing the bottle, touching our hands, listening to the noises of the ride.
"How can I be so white?"- you said -"just look at my arm!" - your skin is so white under the ugly,pale lights of the subway. everything is ugly under a light like this.
"You sure are. you will never get a tan, you will just BURN."
"I wish I had some color. I am only a step away from being a vampire." -you insist-
I keep touching you skin, your soft, pale skin. I look straight into your pale watergreen eyes, I touch your red hair, red that has green flares by moments. I think you're full of color. I don't say a thing.
" I think I'm so white because I'm like a piece of paper. I'm a canvas! I'm this way so I can be painted on, written on. Would you? would you give ME colors?"
II
Another beautiful scar.
I woke up and decided that TODAY was going to be the day I'd finally take your heart off my wall.
It's been there, burning, burning.
Being the first thing I see when I wake up, mocking me when I get back home, shining among the other hearts, proud in it's happy unfairness.
But it's strong, and the magnets holding it to the door are tight. Once I grab it, it wont come off easily and then I slide my hand over the edges and I make a thin, deep would that stains door, heart and hand with bright red blood. I curse, I drop the heart.
I can't help it. I smile. YOU keep coloring the morning.
