she is alliteration

She is hypodermic

She is that song, that painting, that word, that streetlight, that touch, that phrase, that gun metal glance, that childhood memory, that ATM transaction, that one single word of praise you received today, that knock-knock joke, that tiny restaurant you pass everyday on your way to work, but not on the way back because traffic is awful around there, around that time… that is to say… she is… that soft hand on your neck, that lingering juniper scent, that tell all book about the presently forgotten, formerly wholesome celebrity, that voice, that movie you will never admit you liked, that torch, that light, that word, that painting, that song… that you cannot get out of your head… that you smell, taste, and hear in empty rooms and empty thoughts…

She is anything but tepid

She is now