Somewhere in the world a boy
is getting a blowjob and somewhere
a girl is gritting her teeth. When
I see couples pass and imagine
them fucking, I’m sure they’ll die
alone. It’s only in absence
a thing can exist. It’s the outline
it leaves behind. It’s the space
between our lips, the sighs
we tack up in the air to prove
we were ever here at all.
In the evening I’ll tell myself
I’m something as I study skin cells
in the mirror, as dandruff falls,
and I’ll watch over my shoulder
for anything I can stand between.
Photo by Matt Reinbold
