based on the song Girlfriend by Kitty which I find entertaining nd visual
it’s a sunny afternoon. we watch your girlfriend slip into her swimsuit while we sip on gin and tonics. she made them, and thinks her extra squeeze of lime juice is a signature style. by the third one my head spins and we beam at each other and at her.
she walks away and I can smell her perfume, lingering. i want to pick up the shirt she let slip from her shoulders. i don’t move, sinking deeper into the deck chair. she waves from across the pool, and I catch you smile as she dives in.
You shift on your chair and clear your throat. your whole body seems to lean forward towards the sight of her. you’re in love.
the way her hair clouds under the glistening water, the freckles on her arms.
she says she’s strawberry blond, and though you’d be blind to agree, you don’t argue. I do.
Your girlfriend lifts herself out of the pool, her fingers lacing themselves behind her as she stretches. Her back wrinkles and smooths, like silk.
She comes to sit next to you, looks over at me. She bites her lip as she looks away. Whenever i see her hands i can almost feel the roughness of them in my palm, her nails on my skin.
I’m in love with your girlfriend. She puts her shirt on, so the curl of her tattoo disappears. Nevermind. I will be kissing it later.
You want to talk to me about her and I can smell yesterday’s lunch between your teeth. I try to listen but you start waving an arm and that acrid armpit scent wafts towards me. I want to pity you, for loving your girlfriend the way I do. I get it, I really do.
But then you say something about what you want to do to her later and ask me about girl on girl action and I get her, too. How she’s loving me, can’t resist me despite her intentions, behind your back.
The late nights and early mornings and the twilights, they tell me that girl doesn’t love you back.
I want to turn away from the smell of you, but I look at your girlfriend instead. I remember that I’ve been you before, so I look you in the eye and bite my tongue.
What’s one more secret to keep?