I leaned against the wall,
holding a glass of wine.
A thunderstorm rages outdoors,
and wishing for a glass of dirty water.
The murky shadows cloud my judgment
with a dream tucked under a feeling.
There she sleeps on the couch,
using her hands as a pillow.
Her long, red hair wraps around her sun-kissed neck.
We’d paid the electric bill,
but the lights were off.
A premonition of her heart beating
on a subway train,
guiding her through tunnels to the distance of maturity.
I’m waiting here with her bag,
the one in which I’d placed a diamond ring.
But my footsteps hang from the noose
of an empty stare.
I shrugged off the thought
this could be any different;
that she could be any different;
that I could love her any more than I already do.
I frowned at the departure of my old friend, sadness,
making room for my new friend, happiness.
(© 2022 AC)