We went to a charming café last night. The evening was fraught with fireflies and indigo stars. We sat beneath an ivory awning laced with velvety moss. Ordered two cappuccinos – the barista shaped the milk so a heart cascaded over our espresso. He must have known we are in love.
He rescues me in ways he doesn’t even realize. With his warm voice and sweet kisses. Like harmony and honey. I watch the Ferris wheel along the boardwalk spin round and round. A colorful pinwheel surrounded by the scent of pink cotton candy and kettle corn. We are belly laughs and rose gold cheeks. I cannot fully describe this feeling in my stomach. Something like joy and nostalgia and I’m looking at him and realizing he is my future.
You tasted like beer every time you kissed me. The cheap kind, because that’s all we could afford. “I’m going to make you my wife one day.” It’s so easy to make promises of forever when you are so young. But I believed every word, listening to the waves crash in the darkness; a satiation I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. You were terrible for me, but I recall you so beautifully.
I wanted to reach for him. To hold him. To temporarily let him burrow into my brain to let him know I wouldn’t break his heart. That I am not his ex wife. That I will never be his ex wife. But I knew him well. I know when he gets overwhelmed he shuts down. It’s not his most attractive quality, but we all have unattractive qualities, don’t we? It’s about looking past all of that. The bluster and the bullshit.