Poem…

You left him on a Thursday.

Showed up at my flat with one bag

and the kind of eyes that have made a decision

so complete it scares even the owner.

I didn’t ask questions.

I just took the bag, set it down,

and let you undress me like opening a letter

you’d written to yourself years ago

and finally found the courage to read aloud.

We fucked on the living-room floor

slow enough to hear both our lives click into place.

After, you whispered against my neck,

“I was always coming back.

I just had to become someone

who deserved to arrive.”