maybe we really were
like magnets after all.
the closer I tried to get to you,
the further away you crawled.

six months ago,
you grabbed my hand,
you pulled me in,
you spread your hands across my thighs,
and you smiled.
“we should move downtown”
“together?”
“yeah”
I’ve always wanted to live downtown.
I want to live with you.
Now you want me
to live downtown with you.

four months ago,
you gave me back my keys.
we never moved downtown.
I haven’t seen you since.

today
I moved downtown,
to a different downtown
a million million miles away.
I wonder if you’ve moved.
I wonder who you’ll say that to next.

the last time we did
was in a hotel room.
you came.
I said I love you.

you ended it a week later
and said
you meant to do it
as soon as the plane touched down
back home
but you needed a ride.

I’d say “*******”,
but I still want to.

you know it well
this feeling
familiar

it comes in swells
attraction
peculiar

you were holding every inch of me,
every inch of skin.
we were on fire.
you kissed my forehead
and I smiled.
“what a ******* cliche.”
you fingers crawled through mine
and I looked up to see
your perfect grin -
the one that goes
all the way to your eyes.
that’s when you said it.
you said it first.
“I think I love you.”
I laughed.
“I’m sorry.”

your hand is cold
before you pull it away.
it’s pouring rain.
what a ******* cliche.
I look over to see you
picking at your jeans.
you can’t say it to my face.
I don’t know who you are.
It quietly,
finally
leaves your mouth
after a string of excuses
and reasons why you
just can’t anymore.
it’s not me,
but it is.
you said it the first time
and you say it the last.
“I’ll always love you.”
I laugh
“I’m sorry.”