river water

you were baptized.

i'm sure of it.

you're so clean,

so smooth,

so

nice

and i love it.

but i'm not going to touch you.

i don't mind the distance,

the lack of electricity;

it's just the idea that's taken me.

touch this,

touch that,

run my hand along your jawline

and feel imperfect stubble,

loving the realness;

for real perfection is not perfect.

that makes you perfect

in both senses of the word.

it's just the idea that amuses me,

the thought that i

me

could actually do it,

affect you.

unfortunately,

you don't affect me,

not like that.

it's just the idea that you exist,

and that try as i might,

i don't want this.

i'm all scribbles and worries,

one too many cups of coffee,

one too many sips of crazy,

and crazy is as crazy does;

i need someone to understand.

i'm sure you were baptized,

all clean and pink,

that's nice.

but where i come from,

we swim in murky river water

and i like that

a little too much

to ever be totally clean.

whatever