There you are again,
you old, reincarnated love.
Showing up in new faces
and handing me a token
of your affliction:
your half-empty glass,
a leaf ripped from its limb,
your one-way ticket to a place
I won’t be.
Here we are again,
walking down the street
under wet trees and lit balconies
as if we’re falling in love.
You try to convince me you’ll
stay this time,
but I see the itch in your skin
to leave as soon as you realize
I recognize you.
And I do.
You’re a fiery first-kiss.
A five-day affair. Maybe this time six.
A reality check.
Light beams and a car horn
shake me awake.
A squeeze around the waist
indicates you’re still lying
beside me in bed.
I preemptively wince in pain.
Any minute now.
You pass through that door
like anyone would,
but I know what your
“See you soon,” means.
