Fawkes Night

I waited for you

on a bench, by the road -

under the dripping trees.

I’ve lost count by now

of how many souls I heard and saw

whizzing through the half-polluted darkness,

crying your name

doing what I find myself unable to

even when my days these days are yours;

my mind full of your eyes and ways.

I’ve never been here before: yearning

for someone giving me

less than half

less than anything beyond physical pretence.

I might be looking at that spot now

when I first kissed you

and when you kissed me too and meant it,

before you knew these parts of me that you refuse

to let me use on you.

I wish I knew where you are

to give an answer as to why you aren’t here with me

on this bench

on this night

looking at the bursting stars

who’s artificial light

last just less than what you left me with.