He Did Not Kiss Me In The Stink And Scream Of NYC

I sit in all white apartment
eating raspberries and blueberries
and it’s the only thing that’s sweet about this night
sometimes we have grande expectations
that he’ll be there
with those sparkling eyes
that buckled our hearts knees
and those silver hairs in his curls
smiling
leaning against his car at JFK
but he wasn’t
he forgot I was even coming in that day
and I took an uber
with air conditioning too strong
and sat in silence for 45 minutes
I thought that when I told him
I’m here
he’d jump in his car and race to see me
with the longing of a child on Christmas morning
for I am the greatest gift
but he didn’t
he barely wrote me back
we did not drink big glasses of red wine by candlelight in the bottom of a smokey jazz bar in Brooklyn
he did not hold my hand and pull me back Into him
and kiss me in the stink and scream of NYC
no one walked by and said
get a room
as our tongues finally tangled
under the black pollution and white moon
I turned the lamp off beside my bed
and held a pillow
listening to the air conditioner chug
with the heat of a red water bottle beside me
I did not wake to him calling
saying
darling let’s have coffee
and then breakfast
and then life
I didn’t hear from him all day
and when I did
he didn’t rush to me
with an urgency of the dusk crickets as the sun expires at first night
I walked home alone
and listened to the warmth of humans
and love
and wine
in white sneakers
carrying a bag of groceries
what a grande disguise
the great romances we give air
that disappoint us
before they even exist.