I remember you
against the pink of my bed
your eyes followed me
like the opposite
of a sniper
no one had ever looked
at me like that before
you were as pure as paper
but I was cynical
even then, with you eating me up
with your eyes
I knew:
that the chemical of
lust and love
can change and become
a questioning of
‘why did you put you hand on his leg?’
or
‘your friend is coming between us.’
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