Thigh Gaps

I’m addicted to thigh gaps

The right lighting on the right pic of the right ass

To light taps of my foot, scrolling between nine apps

To the hopeless dissonance of the exact line that you lie at

To the smug superiority of judging you for what you cry about

To the tiptoeing, on birthdays, when you’re closer to dying out

To rhyme schemes that make perfect sense of our time now

To knowing exactly what you cum for

To coming just in time for a crumb, or

Some sliver of something human, but feeling dumb for

Vicariously living through you

I’m addicted to these computers

To your suitors, and why I’m not one

To my admirers, even when I don’t got one

To your response to my comment

To how we all feel closer to one another when we vomit

To how illogical it is to be totally honest

To every emotion that you fake

To introspection for introspection’s sake

To my reflection when I pass every lake

I smooth my hair and think about what it must take

To get between your thighs