It's late, or early, depending on
how you look at it.

I am drunk, again, and I
have this feeling I thought I'd
forgotten.

At this point he would
make an excuse
clamor to his feet
scatter goodbyes around the room
and take my hand.

sometimes we even kissed
in the middle of the street.

Where are we now?

I'm somewhere on your shoulder,
the place I used to kiss before we went
to sleep, the place my lips would touch
first thing each morning.

You avoid the mirror after you shower
and you threw your cut-off t-shirts away-- in fact,
you burned them.

You are in my eyes, when I'm high and flying
fast and hard to anywhere but here. Yesterday,
I bit my lip the way you do. I heard your laughter in
my own.

Last month, a dream.
A sunset, your arms around me,
my tears soaking your shirt, and a realization--
"You didn't realize you'd love me this much, huh?"