I wait At the normal spot: Thinking about the things I've done The things he might be doing The things we did. Maybe this was a mistake, Asking for another meeting. I smoke for my anxiety.
I walk To the normal spot: Tasting her scent Smelling her voice Feeling her expressions. Maybe this is the end, Or just another argument. I smoke for my anxiety.
I hug him Staring at the numbers on the gas pump: The money someone else spent The price of the fuel Advertisements for cheap cigs. Maybe I won't see this all again, The little things at the place we rendezvous. I pull him closer.
I hold her Fingers clutching her body: The creases in her coat The curve of her back The leather of her belt. Maybe if I let go, she will fly, Let the wind do what our words won't. I stare at the store window.
We light up together Words won't make it better: The silence echoes We both relight Some random coughs. Maybe we're so alike, we think the same, Words would only make the truth hit home. We're just clichés.