Cherries
I left my jacket on the chair but I can’t go back to her.
We stay in Portland and the rain.
We send messages with the subject line: New York City.
We get caught wishing someone had told us what we were in for.
The women you knew don’t care enough now to save you.
You spend your days waiting for time to make you wise.
You lie to yourself about anything you want.
You tell yourself people improve with age.
Take the risks that are available.
We look at our feet all day.
We concede what’s been done.
We let our troubles keep us scared.
Stay in touch if you can stomach the messages about new relationships.
Be happy for each other if you like pain in your moving on.
Pledge not to write about people and break your promise.
On the same day the unrequited love writes you
with news of the love of your life’s new boyfriend
you get a message from a girl who doesn’t speak English.
There are so many ways to say hey.
A lover that may or may not be sends you one word
in the middle of the night:
cherries.
To tell you what
I did when I was with you
would only widen the wound.
What could you say to make me stay in Korea when New York is waiting.
The nearest we come to traveling
is dreaming ourselves into
places we’ve never been.
They’re not parting shots when you’re already gone.
