Until Next Time

 

“It’s been a pleasure,” you said,
with the windows drawn down
and the lights coming toward us.

I didn’t know what you were talking about,
but I do know that no one’s ever felt
the way about me that you have.

Is that good? I asked myself
that night and last night and
every night before.

The sky sunk into night, and
I felt your elbow against mine
warm and stained and cracked.

“It’s been a pleasure,” you said,
the only thing I’ve ever felt,
like nails digging into my skin when you smile.

Gazing in the distance,
“No one’s loved me,” you said, “like you.”
I’m here, I’m right here.

A million numbers called every night.
Every voice answered and
yours was the only one that ever left empty static.

“A pleasure,” you said
and I didn’t understand
why your tears were on my wrists.

Cold air,
reaching for a hand
like an Indian sunburn on my fingers.

I told you so many times before
and in that moment you thought you’d found me
when I was never hiding.

“It’s been a pleasure.” You smiled so wide and bright
it felt like I was looking at the sun,
or maybe you were.

 

 

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