i thought i saw you in august,
in the uneven smile of a slim boy with brown eyes
and a mouth puckered by a cherry chapstick.
i thought i heard you in november,
in the drunken giggle of a girl
too dazed to drive herself home.
i thought i felt you in january,
in the palm of a callused hand
that would eventually
ball into a fist.
i thought i tasted you in april,
on a pair of lips that turned out to be dripping
and vodka stolen from a father’s cabinet.
now it is july, and i think i smell you.
only you’re in the perfume
of the girl in this old bookstore
and you’re smiling at me.
- i hope you’re nothing like the others.
Written By Kennedy Kelis