Passenger Seat

he is leaning from the front passenger seat
silence and stillness, spilling on the street
me, infatuated. mind, intoxicated
his skin, illuminated
by the warm streetlight glow
fuck Maslow, honestly
love should be further down the hierarchy
how can this not be a physiological need?
love is illogical, guaranteed
pale irises, dark lashes and oversized glasses
everything about him, infringing on my sanity
forgive the profanity
but fuck this, fuck resisting
every wire in my body
and if hellfire is my penalty, then God, He
can personally escort me to the gates
because me and this guy right here,
we’re soulmates.

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