7:30 PMbyLauren Hynde©
It was seven thirty.
You would not stay after eight
and after eight it would have become obvious.
There was order in the world,
and half an hour for us,
half an hour when we didn't really want each other,
half an hour during which we only hurt ourselves,
comfortable as we were not to have met before.
We spent half an hour arranging another hour for us,
half an hour that didn't start until it had ended,
when we said our good-byes, until next time.
And seeing you again
I didn't feel myself, nor my hunger, nor my thirst
nor any need other than you,
so I did like poets do,
to replace it with a better one.