it aint you, but it’ll do

late august. we stood there with our hands in our pockets, trembling fingers and sweaty foreheads burning under the cities’ skyline. the sun was stretching itself across buildings, i could smell the steam rising off of the asphalt and i could hear the trees trying their damned to sway. it’s too sticky to move and the humidity keeps everyone from touching.

five feet too far from one another, you speak:

" I’m leaving soon to go find out that every girl I meet isn’t what I think you are "

I’m quiet & making that stupid face again.

"but.." 

trailing off, I realize that nothing that I can say next is going to make you stay. there is quiet desperation in my voice, so I instead, say nothing and left it all up to you.

But you slouch, shrugging all of the tension in front of us off of your narrow shoulders, mutter some pretty words under your breath and turn around to leave. I only remember my feet sinking into the sidewalk like quicksand and the way your shoes shuffled as you walked away.