old head

you can see cracks along our edges

but our faces are young & vibrant and dewy like teenagers

because we are like them too aren’t we?

 

giddy at the prospect of stealing eager glances at her before shyly staring at the floor

her cheek–your shoes

her forehead–your shoes

her lips–the wall

her eyes…

her eyes! how they caught yours

how they locked

 

awkwardly discussing our adult day to days as if we were flirting for the first time ever

sitting too close on the bleachers behind the school giggling nervously in hushed tones

accidentally touching her hand–apologizing

bumping into her thigh–apologizing

spilling your drink on her–uncontrollable giggling

staring at her…

blushing, at the very idea

of clumsily, haltingly reaching for her waist

 

realizing that you’ve been waiting nearly three decades

to play in the little sunbeams of some other woman-child’s affections

 

but there is weather in our nail beds

we have clawed through stone barriers

and our backs are water logged

we have been left out in the rain

and our feet are dry and wrinkling

we have wandered across distances

 

heaven knows we have been alive this entire time

 

it’s just that briefly, when you regard her

all taut thighs and heaving chest

all doe-eyed and the pouty-lips

we are passionately innocent

we burn

we go back to a time when things didn’t happen when they were supposed to

but our faces are young & vibrant and dewy like teenagers

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