by Pattie Flint
He fed me almond butter toast and hot cocoa,
naked in his bed I wonder why he loves me still,
after I broke his heart on the ride home from
collegiate dinners in clothes we had outgrown.
The rain is never rain enough; I tried to tell him.
I wear his boxers and mention that my thighs hurt.
His eyebrows sternly narrowed at my dark kisses.
The shadows are starting to blink tonight, my love.
Tell me about the sad movies you watch when you
need to cry. I’ll share all the songs playing over and
over when I run towards places I will never reach.