but that was a long time ago.

12/7/09.

you said, “you’re my girl,”
and then,
“i’m drunk.”
with a chuckle you dismissed
any hope I had left that you
maybe gave two s***s about me.
my lungs gripped at your
secondhand smoke,
tried to inhale you.
maybe if i got lung damage
i could have you forever;
instead of in fleeting wisps
as if you’re mirroring the
puffs of smoke that escape your lungs.
you said if you kissed me again,
we might get carried away.
i almost begged you to,
to kiss me again.
to get carried away.
instead,
you told me goodbye,
and that i was a mistake.
one last (carcinogenic) exhale,
one last (quick) beer-flavored kiss,
and you were gone.
i watched you walk away,
and could hear my heart shatter on the pavement.
i heard you unintentionally mutter
one last quip before you got in your car.
“you’re still my girl.”