Close the Book

I’ve been here twice before;

First time with you and the second time I was hugging my shadow 

On a summer night. Retracing our steps,

Where you pushed me on the swings,

And then I lay in the middle of the field,

The lukewarm rain drizzling my tears away.

Third time, I swayed on the swing set,

My body, frigid and quaking.

I took no step toward the field.

I’ve been here twice before,

And twice in the winter cold,

Once with you and once with my cigarette.

This time I’m fine, alone.

“I’ve never felt so close to anyone before,” 

You whispered in the cold, "This is perfect,”

This is my last cigarette,

My last visit here.

And this time I'm fine, alone.