A

So here’s another poem,
about nostalgic evenings,
taking place after a late night movie
and during a walk through an empty town,
considering the far away music
of loose headphones hanging limply
by my breast pocket.

Here’s another poem about the lights
catching her pale face at all of the right
moments,
illuminating the contours of her cheekbones
as we passed our old school,
sitting still on the edge of the suburbs,
the iron front gate chained shut,
sparking the comment she made
about maybe jumping the fence
when I decided I didn’t want to.

Another poem in the hope of conjuring
something which was forgotten but not yet lost,
only, they’ll never know how that night ended,
because I promised I would never tell,
and I know that she sometimes reads
my writing.

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