To Jyo

drunk
we made
our
way up
the stairs

just like
last time
only
you’re not
next to me
this is
another
stranger
:
a
man
,
who will
probably
never come
a breath
close to
what you
we
briefly
(very briefly)
had

but the
stairs
– yeah
we walk up
this man
and I

and just like
you and i
had sat down
on a
textured floor
next to each
other
and talked
on a warm
summer
night
i
talk with
this man
but he –
he was
sitting
opposite to
me
not next to me
unlike you
with your arms
brushing
past mine
softly

and he
-he didn’t ask
me if
he could kiss
me
(consent-
feminism-
ally-ship
he has
worked on
his
homework)
like you
had
asked me

and so
ofcourse
my mouth never
arched
into
‘I have never
kissed a girl’

and so
ofcourse
your mouth never
arched
into
‘You could do so
now’

and so
ofcourse
we never kissed

we just talked
this man
and I
and we
climbed down
the stairs
and you climbed
back
into my head

and i sit here
wondering
why i
never
posted
all those
letters
i had written
to you
after our
goodbyes
came
in the form
of each
other’s
addresses

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