New Age

i can’t remember the last time he looked at me.

said thank you.

put his phone down.

told me to not repeat myself.

i only saw his face in pictures and mirrors.

i had a better grip on the t.v. remote than i did on our relationship.

notifications tickled his toes.

his #identity had been filtered.

at least he was cool on the internet.

remixes are for the radio.

our love was older than his mixtapes.

he saved our memories.

never sent me a copy.

when his phone overheated he noticed i was gone.

at that point, then wanted to communicate.

at that point, he thought it was appropriate to flirt.

he vanished once technology advanced.

he was outdated.

they didn’t manufacture our charger anymore.

and the one we owned had water damage.

he unsubscribed from my weekly newsletters.

i lost my headphones months ago.

i decided to change my hair.

my hair hadn’t been short since i learned the alphabet.

told my parents i was cutting off the dead ends.

told them i’m rearranging the living room furniture.

i called my brother for his spotify account.

rumbled the bass and followed the leader.

i only danced at my parties.

my mom used to wooden spoon my ass every time i sexualized these hips.

i didn’t want to grind on strangers.

walls never overstepped boundaries.

my hands would gracefully float in the sky.

clouds were impressed by how high i could jive.

wouldn’t stop moving to feel how sore my thighs were.

couldn’t stop drinking or i’d remember to sleep.

i convinced myself that every dude wanted to kiss me.

and i went for it.