i think that i saw you.
through the closing doors of the metro
i just missed by a minute
i think that i saw you.
from the corner of my eye
asking the bartender for a refill
crowded in the wednesday bar
i think that i saw you.
waiting on a bench —
our bench —
outside my school looking away
i think that i saw you.
on the beach with a spot saved
outside the club smoking a camel
to get away from it all
i think that i saw you.
booking a ticket to
somewhere i should be going
too
i think that i saw you be who you are —
were —
looking out from under your glasses
at everything we once were —
could have been
i think that i saw him come back to the top of your throat
but then i saw you swallow him down
push him aside again because it wasn’t time yet
i think that i saw him.
in the questions you asked
in the sad i could see in your
huge, stupid eyes
i think that i felt him
in the habitual arm grab
i do only to the people i care about
i thought that i saw him.
but i didn’t look too hard because
disappointment burns optimistic eyes,
and i didn’t want to be hurt
all over again
i thought that i saw him.
somewhere in the sky
of the place i left
after getting everything i needed from it
i hope that you see him.
when you’re packing your things
from the apartment i never saw
and from the bed others slept in
and all of the clothes i told you to buy
i hope that you look in the mirror
and he seeps from your pores again
and i hope it hurts like a bitch
i hope that you take off
and look down at that beautiful city
and realize it made you so ugly
i hope that you see him again one day.
i hope when you do it’s not too late.
somehow, i already know it will be.