I think we had been waiting for each other in that coffee shop.
My hands were icy and my cheeks were red
I avoided eye contact for fear of memorizing your face too soon.

The next summer, we both contemplated different ways to hurt ourselves.
Mine was staying with a boy who was always ****** when he called
and yours was driving your pretty blue pickup truck off a bridge.

You slowly turned me into a God that you’d worship every night
a shining beacon of light that you had claimed never to have seen before.
You got down on your knees and frantically begged for forgiveness
each time you weren’t gentle and said the wrong thing.
You did that a lot.

I’d feel your lips graze my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
All I wanted was for you to climb it
but you tried to break it in half every night.
Hand over my mouth and fingernails pressed too hard into my back
I tried to remember what my skin looked like unmarked.

Do you remember cupping my face in your hands and saying you’ll love me forever?
You always said that I’d be the one who left you.
I guess you were right.

I thought you’d appreciate the honesty
when I told you that I can’t see the future.
I didn’t know if I would taste your words
as a sugary and syrupy substance next year
or whether there will be a time when I question the words
‘I love you’ coming from my mouth.