You never stay for tea,
always rushing to the next thing
to satisfy your ego.
Always the opposite direction of me,
always regret.

Your distracted fingers mimic drum beats
on your thighs.
You want me to stop talking, I get it,
I see you eyeing your shoes at the door.

Remember when we watched the night sky
from the hood of your car?
I focused intently on the darkness,
waiting for the next falling star.
All you could do was look at me
all you could do was want me
and I knew it
and yet I kept looking into the sky.
Because that was the romantic thing
the looking-at-the-stars part.

I should have just turned to meet your gaze,
I should have given you those moments.


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