Maybe by Charlotte Nip

we meet on the edge of water
and west cordova street
I put my jittery fingers
into my damp pocket
“shut up”
I silence them
this isn’t the first time
this is every time
I see you.

But I look into your eyes
this time
and I can already feel
the mistake I’m about to make
you give a swift kiss
on my peach blushing cheek
do you hear my messy thoughts
swimming in an acidic brain?
do you smell my breath reek
of insecurity and foolishness?

This question is bouncing
I don’t know where the courage
comes from but suddenly
I am soaring.
“do you like me?” it flies
you look away but I can
already see your response
and it’s maybe, maybe maybe
maybe
on the tip of your tongue.

 

 

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