When the streetlights hang low and that black shirt fits you just right…
is when I love you most.
Because the streetlights, they know our drunken dances by heart.
They know our darkest secrets and deepest kisses.
They guide us home where I’ll love you until the lights fade and the rest of the world rises for the sun.
And when you wake up and light a cigarette while you read your favorite book, is when I love you most.
I remember the night that the streetlights went out and all we could see were stars and I tried to write a poem about the universe and you pretended to love it like you love your favorite book.
But the lights flickered back on and the stars disappeared and for awhile you did too.
And I remember the night you came back and I lit your favorite book on fire and you used that black shirt that fits you just right to put it out.
You still wear that shirt for me even with the smoke stain on the sleeve.
You told me that while you were away you had a dream of someone else’s hands on me beneath the streetlights.
So they led you home where you found me with a bottle of your favorite wine reading your favorite book.
I was crying because I didn’t understand a word of it and you didn’t have the patience to explain.
That night I loved you least.
Because even though I knew all of your favorite things you still walked into the world of the sun, and left me wondering if the damn streetlights would remind you of the stars and me.
And when you came home you didn’t yell at me for starting the fire, and you didn’t fight back.
You just put it out and looked at me with the eyes that I love the most.
I wanted to start riots and I wanted to see you burn but the next morning I found you smoking a cigarette while you read my poem about the universe, as if it were your favorite book.
And that is when I knew you loved me most.