I take glances
away from my existence
by pulling back to a distance
I can see the whole picture,
so I can touch the texture
of waxy goodbye petals
that rotted on my counter,
or melt the cool metal
of your tepid indifference
to me taking off to the city.

Your made up mind
about leaving any trace of us behind
because even if the stars aligned
for us to be together
you’d just feel confined
by me, wouldn’t you?

Mama once told me
if he loves you, he’ll wait
I know she was talking about ***
and I know we’re past ***
but isn’t this suppose to last?
Or are we as fated as a soggy cigarette
that has just another puff left
before it’s smothered against concrete
and left to itself in the street