I think I might be
flirting with you;
laughing a little,
or perhaps not enough.

Somehow, I became steady,
for a few minutes last night,
forgetting about
all that
and I think you did too.

(but I could be wrong)

Didn't you see that
I was shaking
at the memory of what happened
(and all my stupidity)?

Didn't you see that
I'm envious of the brightness
you've adopted since my departure?

Didn't you see that
my nails dug into my palms
as if to say
'I'm sorry'?

And more importantly,
do you accept it?

It could be just me again,
all foolishness and whim,
but I'm fond of entertaining myself
with the possibility that
it's not.

(notes: getting something out of my system is all)