Clichés
       
     
 I walk To the normal spot: Tasting her scent Smelling her voice Feeling her expressions. Maybe this is the end, Or just another argument. I smoke for my anxiety.
       
     
 I hug him Staring at the numbers on the gas pump: The money someone else spent The price of the fuel Advertisements for cheap cigs. Maybe I won't see this all again, The little things at the place we rendezvous. I pull him closer.
       
     
 I hold her Fingers clutching her body: The creases in her coat The curve of her back The leather of her belt. Maybe if I let go, she will fly, Let the wind do what our words won't. I stare at the store window.  
       
     
 We light up together Words won't make it better: The silence echoes We both relight Some random coughs. Maybe we're so alike, we think the same, Words would only make the truth hit home. We're just clichés.  
       
     
 Two, One, None.   -poem by Dru Selassie     instagram.com/druselassie      Models  Kenzie  instagram.com/kenzie_mccauley  Marcus  instagram.com/mmbyson    
       
     
Clichés
       
     
Clichés

I wait
At the normal spot:
Thinking about the things I've done
The things he might be doing
The things we did.
Maybe this was a mistake,
Asking for another meeting.
I smoke for my anxiety.
 

 I walk To the normal spot: Tasting her scent Smelling her voice Feeling her expressions. Maybe this is the end, Or just another argument. I smoke for my anxiety.
       
     

I walk
To the normal spot:
Tasting her scent
Smelling her voice
Feeling her expressions.
Maybe this is the end,
Or just another argument.
I smoke for my anxiety.

 I hug him Staring at the numbers on the gas pump: The money someone else spent The price of the fuel Advertisements for cheap cigs. Maybe I won't see this all again, The little things at the place we rendezvous. I pull him closer.
       
     

I hug him
Staring at the numbers on the gas pump:
The money someone else spent
The price of the fuel
Advertisements for cheap cigs.
Maybe I won't see this all again,
The little things at the place we rendezvous.
I pull him closer.

 I hold her Fingers clutching her body: The creases in her coat The curve of her back The leather of her belt. Maybe if I let go, she will fly, Let the wind do what our words won't. I stare at the store window.  
       
     

I hold her
Fingers clutching her body:
The creases in her coat
The curve of her back
The leather of her belt.
Maybe if I let go, she will fly,
Let the wind do what our words won't.
I stare at the store window.
 

 We light up together Words won't make it better: The silence echoes We both relight Some random coughs. Maybe we're so alike, we think the same, Words would only make the truth hit home. We're just clichés.  
       
     

We light up together
Words won't make it better:
The silence echoes
We both relight
Some random coughs.
Maybe we're so alike, we think the same,
Words would only make the truth hit home.
We're just clichés.
 

 Two, One, None.   -poem by Dru Selassie     instagram.com/druselassie      Models  Kenzie  instagram.com/kenzie_mccauley  Marcus  instagram.com/mmbyson    
       
     

Two,
One,
None.
-poem by Dru Selassie
instagram.com/druselassie

Models
Kenzie
instagram.com/kenzie_mccauley
Marcus
instagram.com/mmbyson