the streetlight hitting the tears on her cheeks.
And all I can think is—this.
This is why I keep my heart in a coffin.
This is why I don’t do pillow talk
or promises
or playlists that make you feel pain.
Celie drives herself into love,
at a hundred miles per hour?—
all heart, no brakes, no seatbelt.
But I’m not going to be that stupid.
(Except when I am. Which is always.
But shut up, I’m trying.)
This Andrew-thing dies here
before it takes its next breath.
Love always has a loser, and it’s Love.
The pigeon waddles up
like we’ve been through some shit together.
Then he snatches the last bite of pretzel from my hand, taking what he wants and disappearing into the dark.
I watch him go.
“Makes sense. Textbook male.”
I stand, start toward Celie,
ready to wrap my arms around her.
Then—
Buzz.
I freeze.
My eyes drop.
Phone screen lights up.
One notification...
(551) 233-1980:
I wanna see you
