A mint green café, slow afternoons, nowhere to be.
Shoes on the floor, parfait in our hands.
Days on a calendar we’ll never get back.
It all tasted sweet and we knew it.
There are versions of us that don’t exist anymore.
We left them in rooms we don’t live in, in words that no longer fit.
But when we close our eyes we see them shining.
Like light that can’t be held back.
We were distant stars that learned how to become dawn.
