Losing You

by Patrick Pomeroy

You sashayed to the train without hurry
Without the warning of your familiar, incremental
Adjustments not inches away from me

Winter sauntered up to the fading din of erudite summer
Conversations with its laughter and predictable drunken
Guffaws of situational guests lingering from autumn to fall

I couldn’t be still or breathe regularly with the brushfire of
Your ink black hair strewn in my bed, kindled from the same
Tears that had doused out our smolder

Smitten, our bodies the hottest vines, the tightest twist
In our summer garden

What was without all the predictable, routine trappings
That make it all go wrong

Oh if you only knew how your smile could stop that train

One thought on “Losing You

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