she’s standing next to me
the riffs crawl slowly
under her skin,
tunes reaching
something long buried
within.
the sky thickens
with sentient air —
as if we’re sitting
in a drive-through
watching us on the screen.
even the town
is under her spell,
its nightlife dimmed,
and out of the way.
she smells like
imponderable winter air.
with a glance,
she lifts me up
and breaks me
in one breath.
her eyes —
the sea after storm.
my gaze drifts
to her mouth.
her words linger,
honey-crumbed,
after a bite.
a phone chimes —
mine.
i know
i have to go.
‘find your way back to me,’
i think.
i hope.
my heart aches,
she feels it, too.
i’m not ready
to say goodbye.
but i do.
this was written as a short story in 2015. i met a wonderful girl, who ended up moving back to Denmark. this was written about our last night together, and our goodbye, as we stood in front of M&S in Oxford, on Queen Street, under the lit-up Christmas lights, with someone playing guitar in the distance.
July 5, 2025
