you were holding every inch of me,
every inch of skin.
we were on fire.
you kissed my forehead
and I smiled.
“what a ******* cliche.”
you fingers crawled through mine
and I looked up to see
your perfect grin -
the one that goes
all the way to your eyes.
that’s when you said it.
you said it first.
“I think I love you.”
I laughed.
“I’m sorry.”

your hand is cold
before you pull it away.
it’s pouring rain.
what a ******* cliche.
I look over to see you
picking at your jeans.
you can’t say it to my face.
I don’t know who you are.
It quietly,
finally
leaves your mouth
after a string of excuses
and reasons why you
just can’t anymore.
it’s not me,
but it is.
you said it the first time
and you say it the last.
“I’ll always love you.”
I laugh
“I’m sorry.”