a small mouth and knowing eyes
as the bus passes down streets
we can’t seem to let go of
smooth skin and
beer cans held by fingers in fingerless gloves
along with shared memories of
events that never occurred
oh, these
drunken kisses where kisses should be amidst
nights that never end
and beds that know our scent
that know our words
as
they
leave our lips and hang in the air
above our heads
like those clouds that bring the rain
we seek so desperately so
they may wash away our shame
of being stuck here the
same as
everyone
else
Author S. K. Nicholas 
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