Trevor Abes: Writer

I don’t want to ask you for anything

I just want to sit here and think about your pouty face

When rain ruined our walks

How you’d nuzzle into my chest and urge

That we go back home in a faux-apocalyptic tone

Let me just keep that image in suspension for a second

And not feel like I need you to be in love with me

To appreciate it for what it was

A delightful 45 minutes in the middle of a Saturday

With someone I used to be partners with

Our lives intertwined like a money tree

Like our cat’s hair and every surface in our apartment

As if life’s knack for cutting you down to size

Was no match against our willingness to talk

Problems into submission