After all these years
The familiarity stuns me.
I catch a glimpse of you through
My car window: your confident gait,
Near swagger – the jab of a dagger
Into my memory that can’t forget.
Sharp. No blood.
News travels fast in a small town
And soon we are sitting beside each other
Unconsciously tracing fingers over our names
Etched deep into the old wood of
That bar table – back when we displaced
Self-harm attempts onto furniture.
We were 18 then.
At night when our lips kiss
The warmth doesn’t quite spread
To my toes. From over your
Cold shoulder I can see the moon
Dousing the fire we once possessed.
I step back to realise that even our ashes
Nostalgia whistles through the hollows
Of my flute of a heart – making
Melodies, chimes of sadness.
We speak in sorrow.