Next Weekend | Poetry

Thin white clouds streaked across the sky
like last nights lipstick across your mouth.
it was then I realized I could get lost in you.

Cold, calm, crisp.
The stark morning light reminding us of the choice we both made
purple crescents under my eyes,
the hint of regret already visible through the sleepy haze
excuses perched on cracked lips ready to tumble out.
a nudge, a cigarette, a silent offering
an understanding.

Rubbing your chin with a shaky hand
the only recognition of my possessiveness is 
an arched eyebrow, a shrug and the running of hands on jeans
as you remove the evidence that last night ever happened.
The marks on my neck won't come off as easy.

"This was fun yeah?"

Empty, hollow words
i hear a voice i don't recognize echo a thin reply.
A squeeze on the shoulder, 
a sigh.

"Until next weekend then."