“How about a pick-me-up?”
The strap of your bra was peeking
through the slight fabric of your
thin shirt. Inviting me to get
lost in the pale shoulder it clung to.
There were lots of places around
that would sell us energy drinks
and cigarettes at three in the morning,
but I acted as though I couldn't
remember where they were.

“We'll just drive until we see one.”
But I didn't want to drive. I wanted
to hold your hand forever.
To have your small, delicate hands
wrapped up in my oafish and
calloused fingers. I wanted
to feel your soft, I needed to know
that it was there. I wanted to sit
awhile in the smell of you
and pretend that this night meant
as much to you as it did to me.

“We could walk, if you're worried about gas.”
I don't believe in fate, I don't
think anything is predetermined to be
any one particular way. But just for
that one minute I wanted to believe
that you were being pushed by
invisible strings toward me. That
in your earthly home I could find a
place where I finally belonged.
I held your hand as we crossed streets.

“I'll protect you.”
I joked, I lied, and I hoped.
I would protect you forever, from
anything if you would let me.
I would cradle you close, like a
precious gem or a hurt animal,
I would breath my stale life into
your form until we were both
alive and fresh for the first time.
Let me be that man. Let me be the
man you want but don't need.
I would do anything for that.

“I had a lot of fun tonight. Thank you.”