It's the day after I've spent the memories on other things I sat at a candled table eased into wicker chairs with plush cushions and cigarette smoke coiling into the humid air.
I-among others- wet our tongues on sweet wine and sampled crumbled cake from antique bakeries sipped steaming tea from tin kettles and laughed as coins jingled in our pockets and happiness jostled against our souls.
I spent the day after not thinking about that hurt but rather forgetting for a while that just the day before you had fallen far in my estimations.