me, lying on the concrete, not even meeting your eyes
you, sitting crossed-legged with a half-smile on your lips
him, falling off the longboard and laughing for an empty ballroom
me, catching the peeling smiles from his skin and swallowing the(m)
(w)hole you, waiting for me to vomit up the laughter
him, impossibly silent under hiding moons
me, biting on my secrets as they claw at bloody gums
you, lying back, still sitting, still waiting
and him, blanketed under a pitch-black sky
it is wet around our eyes.
nothing is clear tonight.
Julia Healey-Parera is an enthusiast of dramatic interpretations of daily life who spends her hours doing homework weeks in advance, binge-reading web-comics, and avoiding athletics. If she can afford it, Julia will empty her wallet while sipping boba, devouring tamales, and savoring palak paneer.
