After Three Years, She Said We'd Better Be Friends

Yuting (she/they)

Last night, I sat on your apartment floor
taking gulp after gulp
from your whiskey bottle in my arms.
It was dark, only the street lights 
slipped through the blinds.
I don’t know if they made my tears shine-
my never-ending tears, falling like beads,
running like a river.
I know you cherished them. 

Because you said: 
"The mess we had is worth you crying no more." 

The closest you got to me
was when you tried to snatch that bottle from me 
but I held it tight to my chest:
The tips of your hair brushed
over my left cheek. 
I almost blushed.

I could've kissed you.