Our conversations are
monosyllabic now.
I make a revelation,
and instead of widening your eyes
and opening your mouth slightly
to kiss out the knowledge from
under my tongue,
you type
"Ahhh",
as though four letters
could ever convey the multitudes
that are supposed to be
born in the space between our words.

All the
I love you's
you were supposed to
tap into the curve of my waist
with your tongue
lie frozen on a phone call,
no semicolons,
only fullstops,
I see they were right
when they said
love ends
when you cannot see it.
Yours ended,
mine still hasn't.

I daydream about you
teaching me to dance slowly
on Mia and Sebastian's theme
under saxophonic streetlights,
even though I keep repeating
that I never understood what
that movie meant,
because my heart refuses
the art of unhappy endings,
but yours seeks them out
and then so do I;
because what belongs to you
couldn't possibly
be painful,
could it?

Background music: https://youtu.be/oTN7xO6emU0