Soul mates in the waiting room

We did not fit in that house

always felt like my neck was too long

for the kitchen

like Meg in that video with Jack.

We did not fit in the bedroom

my sex was too dry

for your heat.

We fit in the car

perfectly.

Back seat sex was us.

We did not fit on the soccer field

watching each others’ kids score.

We fit at that overrated cafe

having sex in the bathroom.

We did not applaud each other

when we broke up.

I smoked the whole pack of cigarettes

in twenty-four hours

went to that underground club

too old to breathe

but young enough to fit in.

I matched his wits

but you sang Angie in my ear

and promised me rose gardens and picket fences.

I stole my gut instincts

when I shoplifted cheap eyeliners

waiting to get caught.

I feel like I will never get caught

when I want to

face my demons

head on

like a car crashing right into my daylight.

We were perfect apart

wanting each other

and remembering only the good sex

the throbbing need to have each other.

We were horrible together

imagining how we should part

and discussing the philosophy

of n o t h i n g

Sartre at our doorway

his shadow we could see

in the night.

In the waiting room

and the disease never left

it comes and goes

and all the thoughts you know about

are far away

from the ones you don’t.

The living room was too small for us

we shared pizza in our underwear

and we were lovers

for a week.

Clocks didn’t exist then

as much as they do now

and parties lasted for days.

When one person keeps on looking

it means they are never satisfied

and waiting rooms

are full of these laws

of attraction

these bullshit theories

that blink and ignite

in lost eras.

Beginning to understand

that soul mates

exist only

in our imagination.

 

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