Chance to say

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

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I love the white pieces of your sneakers
that you scuff and scrape in parking lots
while I sit on the trunk of your car and sip my
smoothie and chew my mountain of whipped cream.

You let that sweater hang on your chest
like a white flag that screamed at me from the
perch I held on the pedestal you put me on.

Keep it real and covered in the scuffs and scratches
before we both end up out of touch and out of reach
and our parking lot just disappears

because I always knew one city couldn't hold us both
with coffee shops and parking lots and lazy afternoons
that hold us down and tie us up until
there's nothing left but a shallow daytime sky.

I love the way you wrap me up in your arms
until I melt in your lap and
I don't want this feeling to die until I've had the chance
to say goodbye.