By Mina Talebi, TIWP Student

I think I figured it out.
I think I figured you out.
Last week I remembered the word toxic
And it didn’t fit you.
Means tequila that doesn’t go down
Means bile in my throat
Means dad yelling at me
Means my trash bin when it’s that time of the month
Means dirty
Means wrong
But not you.
Never you.
Toxic is not you.
You are soft touches and
Softer touches
And maybe even
Softer touches
You are my dreams
And in betweens
And everything I think I need
You are one word texts and fingers in my hair
You are pale cheeks
And brief skin because if we touch too long
Maybe this could turn into something more
And I think I can feel how scared we are.
You always call me clumsy
But I promise you
I don’t trip when I’m not around you
Because when I am
I genuinely can’t think straight
I genuinely get more drunk on you
Anyone else.
May not be you
But it’s the way you catch my eye in class
Make me breathe and remind myself that we’re only in eighth grade.
It’s the way you make me feel like I am everything you’ve ever dreamed about
Make me feel like you dream about me
Please tell me you dream about me
It’s the way you want me and then not
Hold me and then stop
Love me and then

May not be you,
But it sure as fuck is us.

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