The moon was full
and I don't want to romanticize the facts,
but there was something about
the sound of distant cars
and the way
the streetlights cast their shadows.
We stood at the corner
where we usually parted ways
and I laughed at your sarcastic remarks about life
because I was full of ideals
and you were always such a pessimist.

I don't know why I was so optimistic
that night.
It felt as though everything
was the way I had hoped it would always be.
You were saying something
about how everything was corrupt
and that the world was going
to hell,
but all I could think about
was the way your face
contorted into different beautiful shapes
as you talked
and how you would glance to the side
when our eyes had held
contact for longer than you could bear.

I didn't know it was coming
because I had only ever fantasized
about such things.
But you stop talking all at once
and instead of glancing
to the side
you moved your eyes closer to mine.
I thought about running,
or turning away
or saying something,
but instead,
I broke eye contact
to glance down at your lips
and you kissed me without
a second thought.

It was 10:30 at night
and we were parked in my drive way
sitting in your car.
We were both unusually over-tired
and you were so indecisive
about how you
were feeling.

I listened to you talk about him
and why you loved him
and why he didn't love you
and why he never would.
And, oh, how I wished I could tell you
that I loved you,
but I knew it wouldn't be enough.

You talked about his hair,
and his voice
and the way he didn't care about
what everyone else thought.
You made him sound
so, so wonderful
turning him into poetry
as you spoke.

I knew he was
everything you wanted
right down to the way he laughed
and the clothes he wore.
Some days
you were extra in love
and others you were extra out.
But most days
were a mixture of the two.

"Maybe love doesn't exist,"
you said as you
threw yourself against the seat,
your hair a mess
over your shoulders.
"Maybe it's just a facade,
a nice thought."
But I knew it existed
because I felt it
every time I looked
at you.

Sometimes
When I am sad
I think of you
And the broken English you used
When your alcohol level
Betrayed your defenses
And allowed my memory to slip through
When you told me how you felt
As I lay in that darkened room
And you were just an unruly shadow
But I still flew with you.
I was too young then
To know how it would end
So I believed in you
As children are often wont to do
Until another text
Different in intent
Showed me why
A beautiful lie
Is preferable to
An eloquent truth.

Sometimes
When I am sad
I think of you
And the shirt you wore
That night, and the way your sweater
Hung off your shoulders
And how you never looked better
Out of a uniform;
And I remember your smell
And the clash of sterile linoleum
With your musky aftershave
And it makes me sadder to know
You were the only man
Known by my nose
And the only one
Never to let it go.

Sometimes
When I am sad
I think of me
Then, with my red coat
And jeans, flashing a smile
Because your eyes agree
That I look pretty
And that was the first time
A man had ever spoken to me
Wordlessly, with a language I could
Understand, although now I can’t
Remember the words
To the conversation.
And at night I try to remember
Was it February or November?
But all I know is
By December
The language I knew was dead.

And when I am sad
I cannot get
The words you said
Out of my head.