We were sitting in Central Park,
the place we met.
I wore this smile and
you this scowl.
It wasn’t an easy time for you, I know
I could tell by your fickle eyes and that vein popping on your forehead.
But everyone goes through tough times.

As you talked to me, I tuned out.
The butterflies were doing somersaults
in my stomach
as the girls did cartwheels
on the lawn.

I don’t remember much from that day.
I remember not seeing you again,
or those girls again.
I remember buying cheap boxed wine
and chugging it all day,
just to mellow out
those butterflies.