Our conversations are

monosyllabic now.

I make a revelation,

and instead of widening your eyes

and opening your mouth slightly

to kiss out the knowledge from

under my tongue,

you type

"Ahhh",

as though four letters

could ever convey the multitudes

that are supposed to be

born in the space between our words.

All the

I love you's

you were supposed to

tap into the curve of my waist

with your tongue

lie frozen on a phone call,

no semicolons,

only fullstops,

I see they were right

when they said

love ends

when you cannot see it.

Yours ended,

mine still hasn't.

I daydream about you

teaching me to dance slowly

on Mia and Sebastian's theme

under saxophonic streetlights,

even though I keep repeating

that I never understood what

that movie meant,

because my heart refuses

the art of unhappy endings,

but yours seeks them out

and then so do I;

because what belongs to you

couldn't possibly

be painful,

could it?

Background music: https://youtu.be/oTN7xO6emU0