bruises

you asked me one
last time before
the door closed.

it felt
like finishing
the last
word
on the last page
of that really
great novel.

a smile
reserved
for the friend who
tries to cheer
you up at a funeral.

that night:
next year's you listened
to
my sorries
at a pub
that echoed
slide guitar and misery
from the jukebox.

we slo-danced
until i was dizzy with three z's.

i was still
thinking about
answering your
question.

you were ten miles
from never again.

and i was
ready for
one more round.