when you say my name for the last time,

and you drink so much

you can't remember your own,

tell yourself you miss me.

i am never surprised

by the emptiness, when it comes

pulsing in the night. and

twilight settles along the horizon

in wisps of grey and violet.

i have lost sleep

thinking about your mouth,

the way you were the only girl

who ever called me baby.

you turned the music

into background noise.

so much for wanting you.

so much for thinking you were

enough. it was just enough

to kiss you, to feel your knees

collapse against mine.

your eyes were all

half-august humidity,

slow burning —

it was young love on amphetamines,

only a reflection of romance

on the surface of the east hudson.