8 Months, 2 Weeks, 6 Days

On the bus riding to see you
at the theatre on 69th street
it'll be eight months, two weeks, and six days
since the last time you've seen me

I'll distract myself with the movie
so we won't make out like we used to
I'll hold my breath when you touch me
but pretend I'm not phased on you

we'll both probably reach for popcorn
of course, it'll be at the same time
we'll awkwardly smile at each other
as our buttery hands intertwine

and when we go our separate ways
how would we say our goodbyes
would we just walk away in silence
or would you have the balls to stare me in the eyes

so I can take in your sweet cologne close to me
and taste the Pepsi from your mouth
so you can beg for my forgiveness
and once again, ask me out