nycstreetpoet

A brand new poem. I was inspired to write about a girl I knew by Manko's blog. It had been a while since I'd written anything, and my best stuff is stuff about love. It's been too long!
Enjoy it.

Chemistry Experiment

We didn't start the way you'd expect.
There was no plotting, no strategy, no courtship.
You were at a party and I was at a party, and we just clicked.
It was chemistry, kid.
The alcohol made you move and your movements made me keep time with mine.
You were my metronome, and I crept ever closer to hear to sound more clearly.
And just when I was so close the blood in my ears was deafening, my arms were a shadowy caress across your back and my mouth was closing in to pry open yours and taste the fire of your tongue
He walked in.
I had never seen him before, never heard of him. This is my husband, you said as the two of us
broke away
as though our ions had been negatively charged.
Everything was volatile now, I was dripping, burning acid and you were mellow base;
I wanted so much for us to erupt together, but there are rules to observe.
Despite the absence of a ring, you claimed that he and you had entered into a binding legal contract,
one that implied that your love was for each other and no other.
I believed your mouth, of course, but never your eyes. Your eyes could never lie to me;
the chemistry was too strong.
Whenever I saw you, I always behaved. I don't want to be that guy that fucks up the science fair, you know that guy, he couldn't come up with anything so he ruins the other kids' oaktag boards. That fucking kid who destroyed everyone else's hard work so he doesn't have to present that day, he hopes.
You cannot be that guy when two people are married.
Yet we would talk always, we would flirt, between us the sparks flying were so brilliant the ultraviolet would burn out your retinas and render you sightless.
When you went to Peru, you came back minus one man. He was an asshole, you would say, he had no ambition, he still lived at home with his mother, you needed a place to stay and were determined to stay with me.
After an exhaustive conversation in which I mentioned everyone else that you could stay with instead, I reluctantly agreed.
I met you at the airport, we took a car service back to my place, and you were with me.
This is what you wanted, right, I asked myself, Now what?
We would go out, party; I was off the the summer and you were with me everywhere.
There was that one night, too: you were on the extra bed in the living room, you knocked on my door:
Can I sleep with you tonight?
Being a gentleman, I initially declined, but you insisted and I granted you access.
I was over the moon while we cuddled together, and I decided it was time to make my move,
time to taste those lips and make them mine, time to out to elements together and watch the reaction.
And there was passion, the heat, the impulse, the tension, my mouth and tongue laid claim to you
as my hand swiftly moved across you, conquering territory like a Visigoth.
Oh, she was mine, I thought, until I heard you utter one word: no.
It was too soon, you told me. We became silent awkwardly wrapped up together, and slept.
You left a few days later. Without my help, while I was out. You hadn't even left a note.
I'd see you, sometimes, at parties thrown by mutual friends; I can't forget the time you showed up at one of them with the guy who cock-blocked me that night I took you out.
You miss me, you say. I even think you want me.
The the scientific method must be recognized.
The spark is dead.
The experiment has failed.

Thanks for reading!