forgiving you in sunsets

by 02:29 0 comments
this morning, I pretended I forgave you, 
as I walked past you, 
the whiff of your perfume, 
crowding my breath, 
a lot of my memory too, 
and suddenly I’m not there anymore. 
I’m in a car with you, 
I’m driving as you sing my favourite song, 
the radio’s not working, 
so we hum tunes to the wind, 
brushing past our faces, 
I’m driving a little over the speed limit, 
and we’re way out of tune, 
so we shout the lyrics of our favourite songs,  
the mountains echo back to us, 
we’ve never felt louder, 
or more real, 
there’s wind in my hair, 
I’m feeling a little cold, 
but that’s alright, 
you wrap a scarf around my neck, 
and all I can hear is my laughter, 
right after yours, 
and I don’t want to hear anything else, 
or ever unhear it. 

I trace my fingers across the steering wheel, 
and I wish for nothing, 
I’ve everything I want, 
and a lot more, 
and you’re smiling, 
the kind of smile that makes me spell your name in cursive, 
across letters that I know I’ll write to you, 
about all the songs that we’re yet to be, 
all the places that we haven’t been to, 
and there’s you, 
and me, 
grinning from our eyes, 
laughter in our ears, 
and only 
sunsets that make my heart beat. 

_forgiving you in sunsets 
(part I) 

National Poetry Writing Month, Day 12.


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