it's a hot and sticky night. my neighbors are grilling burgers and drinking beer, the dogs in the alley are barking in the background, i can hear a train in the distance. this is summer in albany park. john and juan have decorated the porch, so that it glows. it's romantic and beautiful. i sit on this bench alone. i close my eyes and can feel the breeze as it rustles the leaves in the trees.
tonight, i miss you, our talks, your hands. i miss mornings - drinking coffee and hugging in the kitchen, afternoons driving in circles looking for parking and eating sweet and sour grapefruit, nights giving each other foot massages while watching foreign films. i even miss the sound of the busses outside your window in the middle of sleepless nights.
a while ago, something happened, i don't know what or where, but it was sudden and it all stopped. now, we're not honest anymore. walls have been put up and i can't look you in the eye. i can't be wistful.
i can only sit here, and i can feel this.
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