‘Cause it’s nine in the afternoon, and your eyes are the size of the moon...

You could ’cause you can so you do
We’re feeling so good, just the way that we do
When it’s nine in the afternoon.

I remember the last time I was with you before you had to leave and attend to personal reasons in a city far yet so near all at the same time.

You sat in my living room with your dress shirt on, open, tie hanging around your neck with perfect abandon. You danced in my kitchen, wide grin splashed across your face. You met my sister over Skype.

We sort of look alike, you and I. We both have large,wide eyes; though yours are blue green and mine are decidedly more grey than blue every year. We both have wide electric smiles with straight teeth, long lanky bones, and sharp cheekbones, full lips. It's cute in a way, but what's even cuter is how you can write in a letter, however sad "I know how we are".

When I kiss you it's like falling into bed, but when I talk to you or read you, it's like I'm meeting myself.

You aren't the sentimental kind. You shy away from saying things and largely rely on actions. You kiss me when I'm in a haze in the morning before you leave, spend hours on video chat with me a week, sometimes not saying much of anything, but sharing your screen so you can show me websites you think I'd like.

When I fell down the stairs and split open my knee you dragged me into the house, my blood dripping onto the pavement outside. The blood is still there. I see it every time I leave the house, big bold now purple-black drips. You bandaged my knee, and still acted like I was the most beautiful thing in the world when we went to bed together, even though I bled on your expensive jeans from Saks Fifth Avenue.

You've been gone three weeks.

My blood on your jeans all came out in the wash. I know this will too, in one way or another.