and we opted for the easy way out

There is this silence
where I put my hand to your lips,
and the liquid lies and powdered love
burning by the spoonful
came to an
e n d

With the words turning
on our victrola, [s]pinning endlessly, [listlessly]
with scar[r]ed childhoods
and charged moments of pseudo-sensuality with[out] t o u c h
without ever declaring w a n t
as much as l o v e,
in your remembered past of poetry, dripping off tongues
into the [s]pace where her thighs met,
and mine of regretted firsts of smaller scales and les[ser] men
and something overflowed, while we tried with hands and fingers
to hold these things in, that kept spilling out
while more was said in these 2 am phonecalls
than we could have imagined
with beginnings, birthed from longing for a girl
and endings, a distorted reflection of iron[y].

November has never been a month for beginnings
and here, in the
m i d d l e
of the warmth and the chill
as the reddening seep of nature moved through
with heaving breaths, before the sudden cold,
something changed
from
l.o.v.e to i.n.d.i.f.f.e.r.e.n.c.e
and our semblance of together,
with each [our] and [us]
faded, fell from branches, cracked
smaller under [our] footsteps
than it should have been.

Confined to the backseat of your black car
we should have kept our eyes on the tarmac,
cause they told us - follow the dotted line,
but as night fell, [t]ripped, stumbled into itself
we lost our way,
looking into each other
holding onto hands, and your lower lip, and anything within reach
and felt more than the collision
of metal into wood and tar roads or cobblestone streets
[c]rushing into skin.

[we felt the end]

And now
we're left looking at the [s]tar[s],
cause that's what we've always done best,
while cities bow their heads and a woman sings
in the distance
about hesitation and regrets and how things never change
no matter how far you run,
or stand on the tips of your toes, reaching up higher
than you thought was possible.

[but it was never enough]

There are remnants everywhere
[in t-shirts and European TV and the films that you love(d)]
and I can't stop thinking
while you mix drinks in the shadows
sketching a future in your mind,
and as the camera rolls -
you look beautiful in this distance

and
now

I can miss you without telling you
(I thought you would have fought h a r d e r)
that I know the time in Athens, always.