She says I like you because you are taken.
I liked you from the moment the rain fell and I saw that your fingers were thin.
I had glanced at you outside while you busily memorized the grassy ground.
And then I forgot as evil passed me by with a mimicking scent
"I have come to ironically sweep you away and then leave you with the bass still pumping"
And now that you are taken or reserved,
or whatever it is they say when,
somebody cuts in line or just smoothly takes a seat in a very empty orange plastic chair
inches away from you
you never really said "it is mine" out loud
but you meant it, maybe, perhaps, perhaps maybe.
Now that you are, and that she is here
what am I?
What is my purpose when I have one call currently waiting and
I want the apple at the top of the tree
Even though I secretly know it's falling down in three weeks brown with white spots,
just because death is ugly mostly, at least for now.