friday night
is a blur
except for

the sight of you

running towards me
with such a pace
I thought I might dissolve
before you could make it
to my pavement pedestal

the sound of your voice

that I did not ask you
to turn down
as it echoed in the night
off the sleeping suburban homes

the touch of your hands

against my hip
lightly enough to let me go
but strong enough
to make me stay

the smell of your hair

as I wrapped
my arms around you
in hopes
it would heal the kind of hurt
you cannot see

the taste of your mouth

in the most familiar way
standing just beyond the door
as though the walls
and darkness
would keep it a secret