i mean, the bridge

when i say romance is dead i mean only

the windows of the office buildings reflect the sunset

my sunglasses are stolen, broken, and in my bedroom

so i squint while i shiver as the cars fly past

or stand still. i can’t past the underside of the bridge

at this concrete-covered park that overlooks the water

filled with the debris from the factories

that make god knows what, planes, i think

you say, this one looks steady, like it won’t fall down

i say, i hate thinking about things like that

i think about apocalyptic situations a lot, you say

i don’t. i’ve made peace with fantasy, being eaten

by zombies or if you can’t beat ‘em join ’em, i say

i’ve made peace with lying, but only when i’m the one

lying. so, i give a long speech of stops and starts

and questions i can’t figure out how to hide

like is there anyone else? and do you like me?

i don’t really care. about the first part.

is what i say, of course, and when i explain

that i need certainty and truth, i really do

mean that i need commitment and when

i say that i don’t want you to feel pressured

to meet my family or have labels, i mean

i want you to want it too, i want you to be the one

to ask me, instead. and when i say imagine

if i called you my girlfriend, i mean, imagine it.

it feels right but in the way that i’m thinking

about someone else too. and wishing

i’ve made peace with being let down

and i’ve made peace with lying about it

when i lean in to kiss you, i miss your mouth

you do the same back, but deny it, i swear

her lips are right here. i remember it.