The Night of Typhoon Tokage

Would you have kissed me back:
The night of Typhoon Tokage?

I don’t remember what we said,
Only the stiff cotton and hard bedsprings;
The winds swirling, sealing me under
Your purple inflight blanket,
The rhythm of your words falling
softly beside me like the rain.

I don’t know why you’re asking me this tonight, only–
The regret in your kiss is
Two years too late;
Tomorrow we wake up friends again
You’ll return to her even if I wait,
Your back to me as I latch the gate.


About intewig

I write, therefore I am
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