I Wanted To Be Permanent

I asked him to show me how my name looks written in japanese 

I wanted him to scribble it in his crimson journal 

The one he could place his hand over and nobody else would know it was there I wanted to be beautifully nostalgic 

I only asked to take up one page in the midst of his art 

Instead the careless tearing

Sliced a paper cut across my heart 

when he was finished, and had turned away 

I glued the jagged edges into mine instead 

I couldn’t break my gaze from him 

While waiting at the bus stop, cradling my ribcage like a newborn 

Across the long dark street, my heart plummets into the deep waterhole of my stomach Simply wanting to drown out all the noise 

Of him pulling out a chair 

And my approaching bus 

I imagined the restaurant door swinging open, his long black hair soaring as he darted across to me, smiling, pulling me closer, and placing his distinct cupid bow against my own. For the first time 

And the last 

I imagined the bus driver waiting patiently with warm eyes 

Because she too has known love and the stabbing pain within a goodbye But fortunately for the impatient french passengers 

There was no waiting 

Even for my tears, who barely allowed me time to find a seat before burning across my cheeks Even then, 

While my heart was crumbling 

My eyes found their way through two windows 

And to his face

But they never caught his sulky brown ones