Separation.

With fingers entwined, hidden behind the two,
Flashes of fond memory buzz past you-- the separation,
You make your way through the crowd,
Looking away- probably at the puddle in the corner.

You consume the dim, yellow streetlights;
The smell of the night- you find ourselves bottling it up for posterity.
His fingers now cupping your face, your eyes fixated on his,
You know how the impression of his intense gaze still
Burns the side of your cheek. To be called beautiful,
When all you think is you are a fat, unimpressive existence.
To have your lips speak to another's in no language,
You suddenly know the distance approaching
Will just make you desperate- So you kiss him some more,
Until you let go to smile and hold his hand one last time,
Say goodbye and feel the weight of his absence immediately,
But you know you'll live, you know there is no end-
You're never over, you see.

The next morning's sunshine makes your head spin,
Like you're hungover on a memory, a fantasy,
Something you can't see for months now. You leave
On a flight and land somewhere. Jump into bed,
And realize you're gone. So, you cry
Into your pillow carefully tucking him into your thoughts
Like a poem you now know by-heart.