I’m sitting in a cafe filled with pleasant conversation
and free-flowing libations
when I get this sensation, this prickly feeling
encompassing every part of me
it’s been a while, hasn’t it
but some things never change
can we do lunch?
I think it can be arranged, and without looking
I know you’re there
I know your smile, I recognize your laugh
the look in your eyes, the size of your pride
the depth of your lies
as well as the love that you disguise
it’s something I’ve memorized
since the first time you walked me by the shore
with wind whipping quickly while we danced
down memory lane once more
saying goodbye and hello all over again
living through the good, the bad, the indifferent, and pain
rain falling down, all around, the sound of familiar longing
tinged with the emptiness that’s been there since our first kiss
when I rubbed your ear and you asked can I handle this
I said yes I guess
now fast-forward this to veiled bliss on both our parts
when we didn’t speak of the wind-whipped rainy kisses
or the stained sheets and mattresses
or the broken hearts, all the in-betweens
as we weaned ourselves of the vacuous familiarity
living in a parody, in disparity
lacking all clarity
of what would truly set our hearts free
it’s certainly not me for you, or you for me
so I try to erase your smiles or record over your voice
but it’s like begging the wind to just make the air still
and quiet
quiet
quiet
as the distance between us is neither filled with love nor lust
just a longing for something, anything
nothing
except perhaps a chance to hold that moment
that first kiss or that windy dance but that won’t happen
can’t happen, so I’ll bury you like treasure
my phantom lover
feeling your arms, your lips, your stare
but under the covers someone else is always there
stilling my air, anytime, anywhere
it’s alright, you don’t care, not tonight
the conditions aren’t right
you’re content to wait until you’re just out of sight
until I can’t feel the wind or remember your touch
that’s when you’ll come back around asking
can we do lunch?
we’ll sit down again in this little cafe and
I’ll end up begging you to take the wind away
for just another day.

© Crystal S. McDonald.