Its allowed for once because its never spoken of, but I want carefree uncorkings of wine bottles, back hugs with light jokes, for him to say my name like a song, whispers in my ear and brushes. delicate, fragile brushes on my shoulder, along my waist, firm grasps on my wrist, can I have white sheets and bright blue, santa fe blue curtains and doors, to cook him a meal in my warm studio kitchen of flank steak and avocado salad, to grab my hand onto the subway to another solitary place, to not have lost the opportunity, i feel like I've lost the chance, why does timing matter, cant we stand still here, be permanent in connections, in breaking smiles and lingering glances, in sad, twinkling eyes, in forced composure, in quiet sunday afternoons in bookstores and green wood. can I have silent happiness, in shared forties, annoying friends and baguettes, 5 o clock skies over tabletops and tight jeans. can i have homework dates and swiveling chairs, applied night moisturizers and cold nights. unexpected phone calls and midnight canolis, pretentious movies at 2 in the morning and a cat. can i have riversides again and overlapping planks of wood on steel, grass in empty lots and swings. can i have smiles and of course you do's and silly girls, passing mentions of mothers and little sisters, lawnchairs on cement, how could i have lost that, how could it have been an illusion?
red velvet blankets, cold floors and mahagony desks.
its over.