Meet me at the 6th street
where you greeted me
your first hello
and bade me
your last good-bye.
I keep revisiting
and recollecting
our treasured memories
when I was still your amber
before you treated her
as your precious gold.

Meet me at the 6th street,
just please do.
I want to hug the way you want me to—
for you, for this life inside me,
barely breathing amidst the pain
because of you
as I saw you,
walkin' on isle
of florid carpet with the
woman who held your hand tightly,
as what you keep on telling me
at the 6th street, under the lamppost
past midnight,
that someday you wanted to marry me
but the woman was her—
and not— me.

Now, the child you made
celebrates his 20th birthday
without you,
but still bears the hatred
of not fighting us
and chooses her
after you have known
that I was about
to conceive the child
out of your blood,
but without your love.

Meet him at the 6th street,
if you still can
before he couldn't make it
and will ask you
to pay your debt.