A Year For a Moment

For twenty two moments, wracking your brain In the past he would’ve stood still but today matters Three years in purgatory and I lost my ring. Hold her hand - take her back - trace your name on holiday. “Inhale, it should hurt” but she won’t if you roll your eyes one more time. Fist pressed to sternum because her nerves are numb. We slow dance to affluent chatter. Two stairs were broken when the fireworks started not just one. Put your copper on the train track, wait for it… … Godspeed you! black emperor. Get off at Spring if you like the smell of cigars. Forget about firsts because lasts last longer. You aren’t as tall as you think because after the sun sets she can break branches. When she opened the door one last time she was under the bridge but he was home.