He went to Madrid... And I didn't

Waking up with a wail

In my heart:

He left me.

He went to Madrid

And he chose someone else.

Why are mornings the worst time of day?

In fact at first, I’m OK.

I’ve slept, at least, no terrible dreams,

Then gradually it sinks in.

Rejection, regret;

Should I have said yes?

Would things have been different?

...Most of the time, I’m actually fine.

But if he ever reads this,

He’ll think I’m obsessed

With a stranger I felt close to

Who asked me to go to Madrid

And I didn’t.

Pillow talk

I’d lounge around

On your lower lip,

Climb to the tip

Of your nose

And skip

To the middle-brow summit,

Make the return trip

Over the curved ground

Of your cheek

Then sneak,

Tickle-footed,

To your ear

Where I’d whisper

So softly

You’d have no idea

That I was ever

Even

Here.

You can also read this at Middlebrow magazine.