• Flux Magazine

"This is the way I like to think of you" by Cristian Tamayo

There’s frost on the rooftops of the high standing houses. 

Thin umber trees with a few yellow leaves just outside the window.

She’s inside probably awake by now 

ambling around in her knee-high socks.

She must still wear my long-oversized shirt,

only the white of her thighs showing in between.


.  .  .


Remember how you hooked your arm around mine

the first time we were together? 

You leaned in coming close to whisper something, 

barely audible, but I could feel your lips moving. 

Your breath hot and heavy on my cheek.

A strand of your light auburn hair caught my stubble. 


.  .  .


It starts to rain a little. 

Water runs down the car glass window 

where I sit alone looking out 

into the incongruent world. 


.  .  . 


Through the streaks of condensation 

suddenly I see you, blurry and broken. 

Then, for a moment, 

you come into focus.


.  .  . 


I wonder if 

she still sings

in the morning.

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