Left

Then,
Morning,
She'll make him breakfast.

She's been buying groceries for two,
He knows,
And he loves her desperately.

Then,
Evening,
He types words for her.

He has yet to lose this habit.

Three thousand miles,
And eight months apart,
Still remembering:

a rooftop
by the river

a cloudy night
cold

huddling together
under a vent

high
and hidden
and warm

this is the where and that is the when...

Later,
He still dreams of her,
And wakes

Knowing that the truth
That buzzed between them,
Was felt by everyone.

It pulled those others in,
But in a way,
It set them apart,

Two lonely people
With hands kept carefully
Across their hearts.