It could be
the nights he'd touch you
in between hotel sheets,
The way he'd
hold your hand while
walking down vacant
town streets.
It could be
the way he'd smoke your
cigarette and get
ash in your eye,
The way it felt
to kiss when we
were so high.
It could be
the nervous glance
from across a packed room,
The way you'd
prefer your stance
in the hazy gloom.
It could be
the introduction
on a starry night,
but you already recognized
him from the corner
of your eye sight.
Was he just looking too?
Why does it matter?
You already have someone,
And it's not like you're one
to look all that flattering.
Catching up and
******* up.
Why is life but a mystery?
Spending life only
filled with newly
acknowledged history.