You helped me park.
Like always.
Like a reflex
my body trusted
more than it should.
I stayed still in the car.
Rain tapping like fingers
on a bruise
that never healed.
"I have a rain playlist,"
I said̶
smiling,
pretending my lungs werenʼt collapsing
beneath your silence.
You took my phone.
Just like that.
Without asking.
Like you always do
when you forget
weʼre not supposed to be this close.
"try this,"
you said,
typing an old Bon Iver album
into the cold, glowing screen.
Your fingers brushed mine̶
and fuck.
Even that felt
like something iʼd have to forget
for the rest of my life.
I listened.
To the songs.
To you.
To the voice of a man
Saying "I was not magnificent,"
and God,
wasnʼt that us?
I drove home
with that fucking Bon Iver songs
ripping my ribs apart
note by note.
And when i touched myself that night̶
half drunk on the rain,
half gone from missing you,
i was thinking about
you.
Your hands.
Your voice.
Your absence.
And i hated myself
for wanting you
still.