s.

i wasn’t expecting you to answer

when i knocked on your door.

but you do, and you smile at me,

and you shake my hand.

the skin of your hands, once-lover,

eczema-red and rough, are just as i remember.

but you speak nothing of the past.

i accept a cigarette, and you would walk with me.

after all these years, though, i still think of you.

i remember, once-lover, how you held me;

the roughness of your hands on my cheek and ribcage.

how you bought me flowers. i kept all of them.

once you would hold my neck and kiss me

like there was nothing else you could think of.

i held you deep inside me, anxious, vulnerable;

you kissed me with my taste rich on your tongue.

but that love is gone, and no longer

do i hold onto anything of yours.

i shall let you go, once-lover,

and bid you farewell with a handshake.