We Were by Raheela
we are walking through monotonous conversation
taking sips of breath that dries your throat with every ‘so…’ ‘how…’ ‘have you…’
have you’s such as
have you been keepingsleeping well?
you are speaking in the same pitch as my breathing. my last meal which was early this morning is swinging in my stomach back and forth.
i want to ask if you have new friends
and if any of them have double jointed body parts
bones that go in any direction, that don’t get in the way.
unlike my own.
a young boy with a face full of veinsspider webs
warning us of the route ahead . the bridge is not in use
the wood has been rotting for years
‘no one comes around here anymore’.
why are you here?
‘i live here.’
in flats. houses. same jeans. libraries. playgrounds. people.
‘we should go back.’
we should definitely keep going.
i want to pluck the lens from your eyes centre so we can
connect it to my laptop, remove the audio and voice over a new conversation.
the sky is darkening
with every pitch
that our voices drop.
there’s discomfort. although you already know
that the melancholy hides nicely between my armpit and the side of my body because
i like to carry it all in my bag.
i am familiar with the taste of metal . now i like it. my bottom lip gets caught in my zipper.
i could almost
bite your cheek
and force down any technicalities down my throat
scraping my insides, a weight dragging itself way down . you do not realise that
i brought you outdoors so that this would not happen.
you want us to head back but i believe that
the boy might have been lying.