iaremunyee

The misadventures of the heart and sometimes, the stomach.

Mime.

 

Perhaps if I crop my hair short,
Call you that nickname,
And bring you to those places.

Perhaps if I imitate the way she pronounces certain words,
Or the way she laughs,
Memorize the inside jokes that you used to share.

Perhaps if I time my moans and sighs just right,
Bend over forwards, backwards, sideways,
If I never said ‘no’ or ‘not tonight’.

Perhaps when you turn off the lights,
Had too much to drink,
Your eyes played tricks on you.

Perhaps if I reminded you more of her,
You would love me instead.

Father, forgive me. For I love her simply because she reminds me of someone else. 

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