Last Bus Home

I’ll never forget
the way that she kissed me,
stood in a doorway in the pissing rain.
She laughed at me
then she asked me to believe
that she wasn’t a young lady
in horrific pain.

We made it work and I would see her

every weekday night.

We’d fight and meekly make up

or we’d fuck and then we’d fight

but despite all of that making up

what went down was all wrong

and now she’s out there somewhere

in another fella’s song.

I’d miss my bus

and she would tut

don’t make a fuss

then drag me to a doorway

where she’d make it all alright

and in all the time I knew her,

I never heard her say goodbye

and if I said it to her

she would start to shake and cry.

We bared our teeth

as we shared our dreams

but gradually it got complicated

I lied to her

as she’d lie next to me

and I’d tell her the truth

should be something unstated.

It’s years ago but I still think about her

every day

and I often laugh at little things

that she would often say.

It doesn’t seem to matter

how I change or where I roam.

I’ll always think about her

when I miss my last bus home.