It’s in the way my neck goes weak after two units of alcohol.
It gives way.
It’s in the way I get myself into awkward situations.
It’s in the way I like them knowing I think they’re attractive.
It’s in the way that they look, and I look, and they look.
It’s in the way that they picture it.
It’s in the way that that instinct is in us all.
It’s being played like a violin.
It’s finding out something you never expected.
It’s the joy of living that follows the despair.
It’s in the way that I am inclined to dislike the things you like, because you like them.
It’s the pettiness that fills my everyday life.
It’s in the books that sit unread.
It’s in me.
It’s in the way my neck recovers.
It’s in the way it seems like nothing has happened.
It’s in the way he withdraws
And covers me.
It’s the innocence of it all.