Stanzas: Monthly Chapbooks September 2014: The First | Página 20

And I loved it.
The smell of Arabia’s finest mingling with the dust and your
coco best, your hair draped over your left shoulder as you twiddled
a loose curl and we kissed with interlocked fingers and I loved
it.
But it was dark, and now darker still. So we left and parted
ways by the street-lamp. You said ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, right?’
‘Of course, of course.’
I was so sure of it, so certain, so arrogantly youthful that I
couldn’t hear the hidden lines and the lies and when you left I left
and we left it at that.
And now here, again. Here in the coffeehouse on the small
street. With all the windows broken and the doors jammed up,
the stained mug now missing your touch, the smell of rat urine
powering through and I think – did it happen like that?
Did it happen at all?
That’s the essence of it, anyway.

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