Five fridays ago,

i saw Four angels,

sitting at the dining table.

Three of them were sipping strawberry milkshakes.

all looked at me.

Two drops of pink landed on the

table.

One lonely boy was stationed

at the steel register.

i miss the mango tree in your backyard.

i remember a mango fell as you asked me

to be your

girlfriend.

that word didn’t hold as much weight as it does now.

a relationship means more once it’s over.

(so i’ve decided.)

crescent moons hang over us as days turn into

months.

dust coats the book you gave me.

i don’t touch it because i fear memories that become real with just one

hand.

now the stand-in walks out of the bathroom,

i like her less and less each day.