I waited for you
on a bench, by the road -
under the dripping trees.
I’ve lost count by now
of how many souls I heard and saw
whizzing through the half-polluted darkness,
crying your name
doing what I find myself unable to
even when my days these days are yours;
my mind full of your eyes and ways.
I’ve never been here before: yearning
for someone giving me
less than half
less than anything beyond physical pretence.
I might be looking at that spot now
when I first kissed you
and when you kissed me too and meant it,
before you knew these parts of me that you refuse
to let me use on you.
I wish I knew where you are
to give an answer as to why you aren’t here with me
on this bench
on this night
looking at the bursting stars
who’s artificial light
last less than what you left me with.