You told me we were a movie,
But we were more than a 2 hour scripted piece of art.
I remember the willow trees and how they'd weep over us when we felt like weeping, too.
I remember the sunsets and how they came around 7:30 pm,
Now the fickle sun sets at 4 pm.
I remember the girl who told us we were beautiful,
In her own way
she was a sign of the great perhaps before us.
I remember desperately wanting to kiss you,
Even though I reserved those moments for the late nights we were intoxicated
when you somehow made your way into my arms every time
And how our lips would accidentally brush against each other,
softly,
And innocently.
I can't help but realize that you must have known how I felt
And how much I wanted to hold you.
Or how when you rested your head on my shoulder that one morning,
You definitely could hear my heart skip a beat.
So maybe if you're right, and if this is a movie,
You've chosen to end it.
Or maybe you've decided your character has moved on,
Leaving me alone under the shade of the willow trees
With my cigarettes and 4 pm sunsets.

The end