Wednesday 

We were only meant to last for a moment.

We both knew we wouldn’t last for years like we spoke about drunkenly on my roof. 

There would be no house with an expensive oven, the kind that would cook pizza evenly. 

There would be no abundance of dogs. 

There would be no you and me in a rented apartment, watching the other sleep hoping neither of us choke on our own vomit. 

No late night text messages, no early morning coffee runs. 

No college breaks or laying in the sun. 

There was just you, me and a clock waiting to hit 90. 

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The Roads

The rivers are shallow,

The city can’t swallow me.

I’m choking on all the dust,

I’m choking on all the lust surrounding me.
I’m walking on all these streets, 

I’m looking at all the things I’ve never seen. 

Some men stop and look at me, 

pull out a gun and say follow me. 
But the roads were never to blame, 

I was shot in the head for my own mistakes.

My dress was too short, my knees were too pretty,

I moisturised them daily.
The bridges are alive, 

we’ve spent almost all day in line.

We’re all out of money, 

are we just paying to breathe around here?
All I see is broken glasses, bus stops 

and corrupted cops. 

I remember some beauty, 

I was so enchanted by all I hadn’t seen.

I think I saw too much, 

I think I’ll drown the cross around my neck. 
But the roads were never to blame, 

my faith was never that strong anyway. 

I believed in right and wrong but now 

all I know is that God is gone 

and our bodies will never be ours.

Not Quite Yours

I light a cigarette and think about how I always wanted to spend Friday night

drunk enough to forget where I come from

with someone whose name I never learned. 
Now I only long to be snuggled up next to my window, aching to have your lazy body against mine as I listen to you talk about your day. 
I want your weekday exhaustion and your Friday night relief. 

I want your sleep drenched kisses, your saliva, and your warm breath. 
I light another. 
Strained voices and muffled laughter. 

I ask you what you’re wearing and imagine you trying to fall asleep beside me, my fingers running through your hair. 
I hear you go quiet and smile to myself, 

put out the cigarette with my fingers and shut the window. 

I then lie in my bed with all of you on my mind and fall asleep to the sound of you breathing.

Sunday

Today I couldn’t remember what I ate for dinner last night. It’s funny how that works. Sometimes we can’t remember things we want to and others, we can’t forget if we tried. I have all these unnecessary details about you stuck in my head. I don’t think about it a lot but sometimes it comes over me. Like the urge a dog has to chase a car. 

Loose Change

Today while I looked for some loose change in my wallet, I came across a picture of you.

You had a little smile and some of my lipstick on your face.

After a while of staring at the picture, I realised, I’d almost forgotten about that day.

Some of it came to mind.

Bits of conversations, Mexican food and piggy back rides.

A few weeks after we fell apart; I remembered it so well I could almost feel your lips on mine again.

The way your tee shirt felt and your hands.

My God, those hands.

But now, it was fading.

I couldn’t even recall our last kiss.

Maybe because I wasn’t aware that it would be our last.

Soon, I won’t even remember the colour of your tee shirt or what cologne you had on just like you won’t remember the song we danced to or any of my birthmarks.