Leonard

A waning heart drifts
over London’s peaks
sleepy concrete that
makes me remember
a boy, crazier than me
and how I shrugged him off
like an ill-fitting blouse.

At three in the morning
in a Turkish café
he turned to me to say:

“my biggest mistake was being born”

I dismissed it
with a kiss just
to stop him from
making more
theatrical statements.

I didn’t acknowledge the
depth of his feeling because
I couldn’t believe anyone
went deeper than me:
a selfish teenager with skin
made of silk, delicately woven
from inexperience. Not knowing
how bodies can bind together
without minds, without futures
without promises.

The last cab ride to Brighton
he put on a tie and I slid
into my mother’s heels
his eyes were alight
like a nightclub on fire
and I was in there, somewhere
and still am
and I’m sorry I left to go home
and I’m sorry he kept on into the night
leaving a trail of smoke and cinders
for some other girl
to pick up
to follow.