deliberate.

I could have seen you with my eyes closed and loved you with no heart at all.
Deliberate. It's a choice.
Enigma. Wasn't going to make it easy.

That look in your eyes. You got it when you were drunk, or silly, or being bossy.
It was equal parts mischievious and light.
Beckoning and pushing away. 
But I always came. 
Always, all ways, came. 

You were like cruising down the highway,
Windows down and sunroof open,
On a 72 degree day, 
With a sky so perfect,
Only God could have hand painted it blue. 

Traffic. 
Cruising is only ever easy for a second. 

"Whatchu know about this?" 
A laying out of discographies over drinks I never asked for at an hour when I would have rather been asleep. 

There was something so beautiful about the way the music soothed you. 
Made you feel like who you were was okay. 

Some songs I'd heard. 
Others I hadn't,
But, I knew that dancing in the kitchen and fake forcing you to kiss me to Carl Thomas was a love language I'd never known before, 
One I wasn't sure could last - 
Was even being felt back. 

Here comes that look again. 
Except, I'm rapping this time because you're playing a song I know. 
And maybe this is just the storyteller in me, 
She seems to always see deeper than necessary into everything...
But, it felt like you were in awe of me. 
Both surprised I knew all the words and also expectant. 
Happy this was a something we could connect over. 
A language we might be able to share. 

A look that read, 
"Who is this girl who has "stolen" my heart? I might could maybe really fuck with her." 

A moment. A movement. 
Behind. 
Leaning in. 
Rapping lyrics in my ear and sending every nerve in my spine into a tailspin. 

I knew then that you could break me in a way no one else has. 

Calculated. A little cunning. A lot afraid. 
A man who "knows what he likes."

Oh how I wish you would let me in. 
There are moments where you do, 
And in the littlest of gestures I can tell that you have. 
Eyes in a GroupMe and shit, my bad's. 
"Are those yours?," and
"Isn't that a little obvious?"

If this ends, you might be a song I can't listen to anymore. 
A pain I should've,
But couldn't possibly have ever prepared myself for. 

 

Image: Solange for Teen Vogue