Saturday May 21, 2016
Big Yellow Taxi
Your lips taste like ketchup chips.
“I have to go,” I say, searching for my jeans. Your room is messier than anything I’ve ever seen but it kind of makes you hotter.
“Wanna sleep over tonight?” You pick at a scab on your right index finger.
“I can’t. I have plans.” I lie. You furrow your eyebrows.
The screen door slams and I walk in the rain til I’m soaked and I’m worried about my nipples attracting unwanted attention.