I think hours about that minute, months past,
Wishing my cab hadn't come.
Wishing we hadn't places
Nor people to be.
Though few nights more than strangers,
Our dream striding cities and oceans,
Not a thing was out of place
Simply and so naturally,
As I held you for the last time,
Felt your lips on mine,
Then walked away.
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 7:47 PM UTC
I think hours about that minute, months past,
Wishing my cab hadn't come.
Wishing we hadn't places
Nor people to be.
Though few nights more than strangers,
Our dream striding cities and oceans,
Not a thing was out of place
Simply and so naturally,
As I held you for the last time,
Felt your lips on mine,
Then walked away.