And yeah.
I’m carrying it. Every fucking day.
Another cigarette’s wedged between my lips.
Back to the sidewalk.
Back to now,
to the cold air,
and Andrew
waiting on the other side of the window.
I bring the lighter to my mouth.
My thumb clicks once.
The wind steals the flame.
My thumb clicks again?—
But then I hear a collection of familiar notes.
I freeze,
thumb pressed to the lighter wheel,
heart wide-eyed and pounding.
The song's moving,
drawing closer,
getting louder,
sliding up the sidewalk toward me.
I glance up.
Black boots, blonde ponytail,
she's walking too fast
with her earbuds tucked in, volume high.
Her lips are mouthing the words I once bled,
belonging to her now.
She doesn’t see me and keeps walking.
And I stand there,
cigarette unlit, flame long gone,
thinking about the night I wrote it.
