a short note on cravings
in the back of a cab
still thinking about you.
just watching your place fade
into the horizon makes me
want to turn around. we
shared enough wine to pretend
that we could be something.
who are you? one date and
suddenly i’m ready to move
in and raise our cats as adopted
siblings. this is movie magic
at the peak of madness.
we almost said i love you. that’s
basically relationship suicide
but both of us were so ready
it felt like we weren’t falling at all.
like we were already so in love
falling happened before we even
why do they call it falling in love?
there’s an uncertainty associated
with the idea of a free-fall into
someone else. i never fell into you.
we slid together like puzzle pieces.
it felt like we were made to fit
it’s almost indecent of me to love
you this hard. it’s only been one date.
one. not even. barely a couple hours.
i don’t even know your last name
or your star sign or who you wanted
to be when you grew up. who are
i still miss you. you have my number
and text it daily and yet all i think
about is how much i need you
right here right now. come to
the back of the cab. let me think about you.
your fave girlie
being chill with you
kills me. i know we’re not
together but i think
we should be.
you are my favourite girl.
that is all i have to say.
something about your
energy makes me blush
like a loser and i can’t
get over that.
in three years we will have
an apartment together. i will
be in second year and you
will be in law school and we
will bake cookies all day long.
after we fuck i will open the
curtains a bit and let the sun
stream through the windows.
we will drink coffee in bed and
laugh about how hard it was to
get my top off.
don’t call me when the party’s
over. call me to pick you up
and i will try not to kill you as
i drive away like a hot mess.
i blame you for driving a mom
mini van, and you blame me for
never finishing my driving
when i asked you out the first
time it was hella awkward. i
didn’t totally know what to say
and sometimes a mess, but i
really really think you are my
favourite girl. love can
i be yours?
isabella fiore (she/they) is a writer who chronicles her experiences t figuring out what it means to be a queer “woman” in her world. her publications include WEIGHT and TEEN-ZINE. when she is not writing, isabella can be found baking, napping, or wrapping herself in a blanket like a burrito. follow her on Instagram @isabella.fioreee.