To tell a story

One leaf scratches across the empty parking lot
silenced by a paper memory of the night before
echos of the last car
the one where they sat on the hood
as the lot emptied
talking
waiting, because neither of them were sure
this was not the ending each had imagined
not the eyes they thought they would be staring into
so they left the first kiss for daylight
because it means something different
when it’s followed by breakfast.

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