Photo by Bruno Kelzer

I was wrong

A poem

At the dimly lit restaurant,
We make talk that seems small
Every time my lips part, I want to scream I was wrong

I tell you between my teeth
(I was wrong)
I say it every time I inhale
(I was wrong)

When I speak, I stare at my hands instead of staring into your honest green eyes

I take a sip of soda
(I was wrong)
My laugh lingers a little too late
(I was wrong)

We walk side by side and I ache for a clumsy step, colliding your skin with mine

I lock my arm in yours
(I was wrong)
I let you walk me to my car
(I was wrong)

For the few moments we embrace,
It’s like nothing ever happened
I wrap myself around you, anticipating the empty of you letting go