re-imagining my past lover as henry goulding

running onto the plane,
Asking me for my hand in marriage
And then returning to the pulp after two hours

You tell me you tried, you didn’t.
Midnight on the phone, fresh off pavements I hadn’t seen yet.
I’m a librarian, a catalogue of facts
of your family: two places, now three
I would be four, but
“You can’t be in a relationship right now”

I say I’m sorry, you don’t
So it goes with men your age
27 is it?
And you can’t handle the third girl who looks the same

One phone call away,
but that’s too hard
One phone call away,
but I miss you too much
One phone call away
from abandoned lungs
retreating martyrs
I’ve been here before:
11th grade, 12th grade,
Everybody loved Him

You’re soft, convenient
Washington Square Park jabbed in my eye
The night I said I wanted to keep you

Fold you up, my stars
Baseball field recollection
The stage went up and you devoured me
Brain dropped, brain dead, brain heavy

I want the moon, the distance on the cell grid,
You didn’t talk to me until dusk
Last day, you here, my ears still your thunder

The E Train starts up
February Seventeenth,
That’s soon to now

This time it waits
This time you climb aboard
This time you ask for my hand in marriage
No pulp to return to

This time you stay

Roll credits

-Taylor Hunsberger