Prime real estate

These days all I can think about
is if I fog up
your head,

fill it with thoughts
about me. You said

I am too occupied
with myself. In love. 

I said no,

it’s not true. The truth is
the prime real estate –
my head – is occupied by you.

I said “prime real estate”
like it’s an expensive
place to live in.

But it’s not quite ready for occupancy:

My head is an empty room
with un-curtained windows.

A boy asked me once
where the “prime real estate” of my body is.
My eyebrows, I joked.

I thought about you, already
there, your shadow stuck
to the walls.

You,
yet to arrive at the door.

Note: I wrote this poem while stuck in Manila traffic. A boy really did send me a text asking me where the “prime real estate of my body” is :/ This should have been my reply — a poem for someone else.
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