that’s the thing about that
wily cat, isn’t it. catboy him,
catboy him with the ruffled
hair and unruffled grin and
the slow sly sincere smile
spreading across his goofy
face. that’s the thing about
him and the ways he looks
at me. don’t think i don’t
know. of course i know. of
course i see him see me,
see you see him see me
and tap your beautiful nail
against your beautiful chin
and wonder.
it’s his fault, because it
always is. him picking his
team off the floor every
time the referee rules in
our favor. him nodding to
you in the stands like we’re
friends. maybe we’re friends.
maybe he wonders how i
got a girl like you. maybe
you wonder it too. i hope
you don’t. i hope you know
that i love you the way i
love nothing else: your
limelight smile your slim
fingers the way you look at
us and think: this could be
something beautiful.
the truth is that it’s never
been his fault. except for
the time that it was, too
many events cascading one
after the other into him
against my shoulder. hand
in my lap. and perhaps you
saw us then, my hair hardly
obscuring the look you
know as the way i look at
you. perhaps you knew then
before i did. perhaps you
wonder about the future of
us. let me promise you that
i am committed to you. and
if i am to win him over there
will be no tricks. no lies. no
blowing the whistle early. i
will win him over like no
other victory: i will play
fair and square.
tony's minisite <3 