soiled snow clinging to the curbside

we were back to back on the bus, all bundled up

ice & lights flashing by

a folded piece of paper, pressed to my thigh.

bass pounding

insults & laughter abounding

thinking the night would always last

a discarded ticket stub on my dash.

fingers tracing the flowery ink

tales told & heart bared—

always wishing me the best,

a crumpled envelope upon the desk.

smell of smoke & fire wafting

in the crowd, i know you’re watching

the most fascinating face you’ve ever seen

ten numbers strung together on my screen.

salt lingering on cracked lips & limbs,

it’s just us & the waves & the sun,

rising

and a sunflower in a vase, dying?