This is Not About a Girl

I said, "Life is wonderful adventure," into her scarf on the train ride home.

I grabbed her hands and attention with my soft words and wide shaky smile.

"Your knees are beautiful.

I love your short hair.

No. I don't care that you smell like cigarettes, 

it goes well with your perfume."

This is our stop.

"Shh let's just sit for a while."

I've never rode the rest of this line,

and neither have you."

But that doesn't stop her from getting pulled back in,

with a flood of tears and great big sighs. 

I'm grabbed and pulled. A human tissue.

She wipes off tears and gives me her trust.

"You are perfect.

You are wanted."

I hum while tracing scars and kissing eyelids.

I listen to the clinking of the train.

I kiss you--snot and tears and chapped lips,

and you sting like the sea.

But today's tide is reseeding,

and it's time to rest.