Feigning Clarity

You said “everything makes sense when she’s around”

And in some childish way, it 'hurted'

And I try to summon evidence that my brain reacts the same way to your soul’s presence

To use as grounds for my claim:

we “could have Been Together”

just like you said of all of those other girls you once knew,

the day you narrated your photos to me

so poetically I needed to enter you into a film festival

but I can’t construct a sound argument

because in reality my thoughts beat to the same the tempo as my heart,

scrambling in a way that’s as exciting and wild as your curly hair,

all because my own soul stumbles face first into your eyes

my ears swoon their individual swoons to the aesthetic cracks and depth of your calm voice

my skin itching for the day it feels even your stubble
I got over you long ago. 

This lie I tell myself straightens my spine and focuses my hearing 

and I bring myself to behave as if you’re someone else, a comforting friend. 

“You’re in a good mood.”

“I’m always in a good mood” around you.

“A clear mood.”

A start.