"apathy!"
she said.
in that tight blue cut-off sweater that
makes me think of
how great
her boobs are.
"apathy is you,"
reiterating that
sometimes what i want
is so far away
within inches of my dreams,
the cusp of reality at the tip of the
surreal.
find it for me, i scream my apathy away
as i stare at the eyes that
are her
chest,
tongue darting to taste her,
my anti-apathy, unrealistic.
sitting, sit, sat still
and now her cut-off blue sweater
is on someone else's
bedroom floor.
aha, my apathy,
one love
never forsaken.
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