Tell Me By Touch

My life is a series of glances. I saw you once, you won’t remember. So briefly we touched as your name was conveyed. It’s amazing at times for people like me, how much more a touch says that your words never can.

I know of your betrayal, she doesn’t and that’s just as you like it. You wondering, as you shake my hand and glance around the room, will she miss you if you call at 2am and let her know you’re crashing at Jason’s? It’s so much closer and the trains aren’t running.

Shit dude, you have rehersed it all day, when will the boy grow to become a man? You haven’t even picked your next conquest… but you want it down just in case.

She doesn’t have Jason’s number. He’s just some guy at work, you know enough about him to describe his appearance and nothing more.

Your grip tightens, your hand moves away. When I’ve finished writing this down, I’ll purge this memory evermore and try to believe that a man can be true.

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