Downtown Boy / Girl of the Golden Hour

For a girl who loved sunrises and sunsets,
imagined the colorful and tragic
endings of her relationships,
and knew that everything is finite,
I should have docked and walked out of
the coffee shop the minute we saw each other,
the second our eyes met,
and our mouths melted into a smile.
I should have let you be a stranger.
You should have been just a stranger -
full of possibilities I can write about,
wonder about,
and love about.
You should have remained to be an idea,
a dream so unforgettable, I'd write
a story instead of a poem.


But you asked my name, made small talk, checked the spelling of my favorite book character's name,
and gave me my favorite tea.
In return, I gave you my peals of laughter, my stares, my increased heart rate,
and my words.
Too long, your manager said. We've been
creating a line.

Let her go - this is what your boss really meant.

As if the universe heard her, the golden hour set in.
Like Cinderella, I had to go -
for I chase sunsets for a living and you
pay your bills with coffee, tea, and smiles.
And we both knew that.
We both knew we had to end -
before we even began.
This is the saddest poem I've written.
And I'm sorry; this is for you.