"The Chase"

"The Chase"
You and I are sitting on the stoop.
Our drunken companions are asleep within the tiny studio apartment, piled upon one another.
The night was hot, but began to cool.
We never notice because we're deep in conversation, sharing our past and present.
You, an avid smoker, resist lighting up knowing how much I hate the smell.
Complimenting my brains, not my beauty, and blushed when I teased you.

The night continues like this until after the sun rises.
We sneak back inside when the cool air began to numb our bare feet.
Before we enter the apartment, we pause.
You touch my flushed cheek with your chilled hand and I shiver.
This is the moment I regret.
The moment when nothing more happens.
The moment where we just slip back into the apartment undetected, stepping over sleeping bodies, slipping under a blanket we shared.
Then nothing more.

When asked why you smoke, you responded that it's a bonding experience when shared with another and that you try to get back to that feeling when you had your first.
And thinking back, that's a lot like falling out of love with someone,
Always chasing that feeling that you can't get back to.
And that is what I think about, years later standing alone in the cold,
As I take a drag off my first cigarette,
Finally understanding why you and I can't be we.

02.03.11


This poem is about a night from several years ago. Pretty self explanatory. First attempt at poetry really.


...if he were to see this I'd die of embarrassment. (" ´Д`)