That she can’t change for love/And she explains how long she’s waited for/ She wanted more*

I’m sitting on my bed playing a song that is stuck on repeat. I sing it when walking around our city. I sing it when I wait for you and wonder would you like it.

All I can think about is you, and how things have changed since that November night, when you kissed me, and we kept doing it, every chance we got.

Walking to the library I pass the graveyard with the pyramid and I think about the time you pinned me against the black iron railings and my arms were wrapped around you,

and those girls that leaned out of the taxi and cheered at us, while car horns beeped. You quickly turned sheepish and I told you, -Keep kissing me like that and I will want to fuck you!

Our whole saga started just because you kissed my cheek, because I put dark purple lipstick on you, as I always ask -Please can you let me dress you in drag?

You always say no but you let me do it anyway. You left my cheek stained, I wiped it off -If you are going to kiss me, do it properly.

You clutched my face with your hands, doing what I know you wanted to do months ago when you texted me saying -Is it good or bad I wanted to snog your face off all night?!

The lights dimmed and I am sat on your knee, this time I make the first move, my eyes close from instinct and my fingers feel like static electricity, your hand reached up to my neck.

When we leave the bar, I am wearing your scarf, swinging the end around, You take the ends and pull me towards you, it tightens around my throat, my perfume lingers the next day.

You look at me, you want to kiss me, my back against a wall, but you unravel the scarf and wrap it around your neck. I walk away with someone else whose kisses didn’t match yours.


*Gerard Way. Hesitant Alien, Drugstore Perfume. L.A.: Warner Bros. Records, 2014. CD.