The Last Day I Saw You We Didn't Kiss

The last day I saw you we didn't kiss.

I wore a red one piece bathing suit with an open back and soaked your passenger seat.

The middle of July was never our time but we insisted on taking that dip.

My hair was a dirty straw and your skin was as coarse as our trust.

We sat in the parking lot of a drive-thru and screamed why we could never fall together.

You commented on my bare feet. I on your new shirt.

It felt so natural in that heavy evening but I still couldn't see the comfort in your eyes.

You asked what happened.

We couldn't fade in the Fall. 

We died in the Spring.

Like the long overdue thank you cards and the flowers that never bloomed. 

But you only screamed because I forgot a towel.

Reviews

[terry smith]

coarse inside and out that one is...I love the way you write Cat..it is different from many!!

[.]

-- "your skin was as coarse as our trust"... is a line that screams out of this exceptionally moving piece of poetry... -- the closing is extremely compelling... -- you wield your poetic pen with much skill... and express raw emotions rather powerfully...

[Cat]

Thank you very much. I appreciate your insight

[.]

-- you're very welcome, monsieur...