I would’ve moved to Beijing for you, because you look at me like I’m something special. Because you taste of summer. Because when you wake up, bright-eyed and fucked-out, you look like Australia—all burnt-out and lovely.
I would’ve moved to Beijing for you because I like the way the heat makes you dizzy with want, because I like kissing the blues of its monsoon off your shoulder, because I would’ve liked the way it painted you in your colors; red and gold.
I would’ve moved to Beijing for you because I know how you look under the sallow glow of neon lights and because I know how you taste drunk off too much liquor and the way your whiskey-wet mouth feels against mine when the world goes kaleidoscope.
I would’ve run away with you, because when you tilt your head to melt our mouths together, it feels like that little piece of heaven everyone goes on about. Because it hurts to look at you, but it hurts more not to, and because you feel like fire that burns and burns and burns.
I would’ve moved to Beijing for you, even though I’d only have parts of you she’s too lost to see, even though I’d only be second best and everyone tells you not to fall in love because it hurts, but they never tell you that it’d hurt like this, like something terrible in your stomach twisting or that it’d ache like this, like your whole chest is set on fire and I guess, it’s a little funny isn’t it, ’cause you know it’s going to hurt and yet you still…you still fall.
I would’ve gone to Beijing with you, because there is no falling out of love, not when you count the spaces between my ribs with warm fingers or when you look at me like that…like this…like I’m beautiful even though I’m not.
I would’ve gone to Beijing with you because you are older, wiser, beautiful, and cruel with it, because you know how to string together lies and because you looked at me that first night and walked over without hesitation and you told me I looked gorgeous and then because you laughed at the way I blushed and because you gave me your number and because…because I love you.
I would’ve gone to Beijing with you because I don’t mind having only pieces of you, because I didn’t choose to love you or choose to steal happiness from another or tear apart something that was already built.
I would’ve moved to Beijing for you…if you had let me.