I can smell the cigarette through the phone. I want her to say it. Loud and clear, like a firework in the sky.
She tells me I’m her honey. Says it right on her wrinkled white shirt.
I can’t help but stare, those beautiful blue eyes, an iris so thin. I see the photo so clear, it’s almost like you’re here with me.
I can trace the tattoos so well. I wanna know the meaning.
When did the ink hit?
Was it the same time as the pen?
You can repeat it in your penmanship. The ambiance in your room is filled with scented sticks. No escape of creativity. It encapsulates every bit of who you are.
My love sparked again with sudden jitters, just like how it was after morning coffee. The way the sun hit your eyes and lips, melted my cerebellum. A better kiss.
I wonder where you are now.
The taste of whiskey and spontaneity dripped from your tongue, a sensation I could never forget. That was when I first knew.
My lipstick stained the edge of the mug, but you didn’t notice. I felt your stare burning through me. I was too scared to look up, you know the fear always wins.
You say those words I want to hear, I want to believe that you mean them. Do you mean them? Do you mean it?
The writing begins again. Maybe this time it won’t be about you.
Be sure to follow Tommy on Instagram @zerox500