Seers
I woke up with a weird taste in my mouth,
A cross between stale pizza and old bourbon.
I brushed the taste off, flossed and got dressed,
I wore the shirt which you always insisted me to press.
Got into my messy car and drove to the bar where we first met,
And remembered how we felt like such a perfect match.
How you told me about your dreams and peeves,
Your love of poems and Wodehouse’s Jeeves.
I remember smiling and saying “me too”.
That was before you caught the flu.
But I still think about you in the present,
So I will try not to go on a rant.
That is when someone played a song,
From your favorite band.
And everything came flooding back, damn!
It was 2 A.M., when my phone rang;
You whispered those words in a new slang,
“I am sick” is all I could pick,
from your trembling lips.
And I swear I never felt so weak.
We drove to Chicago in your father’s truck,
with your hair glistening in the morning sun,
and plans we thought would be fun.
In Seer’s tower, you looked into my eye,
And told me how you have always wanted to fly.
All I could say was “I love you”,
And you responded with a wry smile.
I don’t know what changed your mind in the night,
As you crooned, “My Funny Valentine”.
But it felt so right.
You held a strand of your hair,
In the palm of your hand,
And told me, “it’s happening”.
With flooded eyes, you squeezed my shoulder,
Prompting me to utter my first lie,
“Everything will be fine”.
And soon you just left.
“The usual?”, the bartender asked,
I nodded and opened the letter, with your smell, masked.
“I love you too”, it said.