you said-
thinking about the stars
makes me feel so small

but we sat there 'til we
were shaking in the cold,
and i had never felt
bigger.

I long for the slow days

in which the sweat of our problems

drips from our skin

where the water we tread through

washes away our cares

the sun beats down our lingering worries

as we bask in the heat

of the better days

I remember the day well—
When your lips traveled down my neck like a greyhound bus,
Stopping at the station of my collarbone and lighting a cigarette there during the five-minute break.
Traced me down once more and—
All of your belongings still in the cargo hold—
then left.