I Wonder
I wonder about your shampoo. Does it still define you? The way your presence lingers with the ever-present scent, enough to loiter but never causing discontent. Even after you don your clothing or cut the onions for dinner, your hair keeps the faint aroma, of that sweet chemical induced odor.
I wonder about the things you eat. Do you still not give a shit? The way you ate bacon and fries, ice cream after and barely exercised. Somehow you still managed to look great, finding time to run and not asphyxiate. It feels almost consequence, that you managed to gain some weight after you left.
I wonder what you think about. Are you still filled with concealed doubt? Do you still regret the things you said, do they still circle around in your head? I know that they used to, though you never mentioned it. It was a part of you, and there’s a chance it still is. You’d create barriers for your own self, stacking bricks around your mind, fabricating a new version of human kind.
I wonder if you wonder about me. Do you see me laugh and want to kiss me? I feel your eyes burning into the wall, the wall which your eyes shift toward to avoid looking at me at all. Do you see what I see, when you look in the mirror? A sad moment stretched into everlasting hours, never really gaining enough momentum to dissolve into past desire.
I wonder if this will last forever. If I inhale and think about it, I feel the fumes of your shampoo fill me up, burning my throat, stinging like a fresh paper cut. If I close my eyes and remember, it only takes a second to envision you eating last December. And really, this one sounds crazy, but I think I know what you’re thinking, and it seems to be about me lately.
I wonder if it will ever go away.
I wonder if it’ll have to be when one of us dies, eventually.
