Two halves, him and
her, and buses that
go places. Sidewalk sweet sweeping her
off her feet, being hand-in-hand;
A drizzling rain couldn't dampen their moods.
Two hookers and an
awkward pause –
stopping dead in her tracks, the dare becoming
inchoate. False bravado she genuinely
wanted to be true. And his charming, teasing laughter.
Together being the
watchword now, stop only when
I end and you begin. The canopy of
imagined rain, holding on tightly
beneath the sheets, legs entwined, nothing apart.
Three is a crowd and
time is irreversible.
Two tear-stained faces, unleashed demons,
huddled eventually under an umbrella,
his tongue on hers for the last time.
Two souls consumed by
each other's fire.
Better-poised next time to rise from the
ashes, a phoenix without wings. No myth, no legend,
just two people trying heartbreakingly to make it right.