Keaton

You were cushion dimples and

creased white sheets,

forgotten books under a canopy bed.

We slept back to back

Our little fortress in tact

But with no intimacy.

We settled,

Rushing through chapters

Just a quick page turn

before the happy ending with somebody else.

 

The silence.

The stay or go…

Be sweltering hot or freeze?

Let’s sit on the fence for years.

 

The tensed arm around my shoulders

The cliché in the movie theatre

My too-high pitched giggle

The smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes,

That I love you kiss that felt more like you are comfortable to me.

The familiar taste of coffee on your mouth,

Flat white,

We kissed with eyes open.

It wasn’t love that we had and we knew it.

It wasn’t anything, anymore.

But why do I still stay with you, when it’s true you’re not really the one?

And why don’t I just keep on looking for him?

Because once I found him, but now he is gone.

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