Her etch against the skin of my back,
I lulled myself into it, the tones rustling against my skin,
I watched: they smiled as I walked past them:
The sunlight thrown at the iron walls, I see him dodging past you, the corner his every sanctuary,
     as you carefully write off your every recognition: one, two, three,
     I counted the steps past me, and heard them stop abruptly,
          "She is listening," he mouthed to me, the subway grating his skin.
          My eyes crawl shut past his speech: I will listen soon.
          She closes her eyes,
          and she bows her head and the strangers rumble past and I hear them: today, at least,
          shut up and stop arguing with your girlfriend.
          I hear the murmur of the rain against the car,
          and she digs into me slightly more, and I forgot the pounce of the rain on me, every minute,
          I forgot that she was listening so carefully.

She glances at the building past, her grasp clawing at every word,
I don't want to bother listening anymore,
     I fell against the ground at every suggestion,
          the pound against my scalp, flawless repetition,
          I'm tired of listening to your songs:
               do not tell me they will be here tomorrow.
          She kept coming back,
          the pound of her fist against the panel of my door, louder every second,
     I am going to fall back against it and tomorrow I will wake up and it will be gone,
and tomorrow I will not have to glance over my shoulder for her every tap.

She kept coming back,
     the next day I ran it against my skin,
     at every tone shattering the foundation,
     she stared straight ahead and I looked back and the car was moving more slowly and the city wrapped around me,
          and every footstep cast the light right back at me,
          and my eyes, they were so tired from the glare: I fell back asleep,
          and tomorrow I will come back and the same child will be sitting on the seat,
               and I will throw his gaze back at him and then he will not be looking,
     but every day she is back there and I see her sitting on the curb, saturation,
     I looked at you every day and I shouted it,
     "please stop reminding me."

Every whisper through the skin, the song hurled through my vein,
          I forgot the brush of air against my cheek.
     Her every step thrown upwards, grinning,
          every note bounced back and my skin felt every breeze jabbing at it,
               and I smiled at her suggestion and she was right back where I had started.
     Warmth, radiate against my skin, stumble past me, smile and brush yourself against me,
          I'll grin at you and walk away.