deepundergroundpoetry.com
Swallowing Fractions to Fill the Hole
The guy with the guitar reminds me of you
not his face
the sound of his voice
he can't have your touch
but I like the way his fingers move
when he plays
It's how he sings his stories
candid straight shots of tequila
with the shielded openness
you wield so well
Felt a twinge of guilt when I give him my number
acutely aware of the false familiarity
in shared glances while he sang
the flirtatious ease chatting between sets
Don't plan to fuck him
my want isn't for that
though willing to change my mind
I crave his telling of tales
the little details that don't fit
in four and a half minutes
key of E minor
Just want to drink in the dark
while he explains how he retrained
his broken hand
to dance along the fret board
it looks a lot like yours
Maybe I'll blow him
moon rising over the beach
wash the taste of you
from my mouth
his not-quite-your-grip
in my hair
It'll do for now
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