Stub

 Hidden among other small things,

I found a ticket to Lion King, 

our first 

and last date, 

the memory of that blissful kiss,

when being with you feeling like danger.

 

We were the only ones in the theatre, 

adults away from our parents.

Two young people who mistake curiosity 

for love.

This ticket fell out of your pocket,

you didn’t think much about it, but I did

When I got home that night,

you still felt beside me

I still had the touch 

of your hand on my face,

as if you were still holding me 

I sat on my bed easing myself to my pillow,

Eyes closed as I lick my lips

I still have the sweet taste of your lips on mine.

When I sat down, my bottom 

still had the memory of your lap,

I still feel your fingers in my long

river streams of hair, tugging it ever so slightly

The ticket lays on my empty pillow, filling  where you’re not

I look at the ink and reading into as if looking into your eyes

this ticket from a year ago, still smells 

like your coat pocket, like home.