We had no business, none, falling in love,
not with each other, not in autumn.
If only we’d continued filtering through the club doors
on that autumn evening
without acknowledging the other’s existence
with a sultry smile and a hello, we’d be alone.
We spoke with the romance we’d swore off.
We engaged in exchanging lip service,
serving self-serving compliments as she twisted a lock of her long,
dirty blonde hair around her finger; her face glowed.
She embellished my self-esteem.
I am in bed again with a woman, turning over a new leaf.
(© 2022 AC)
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