I will never forget

the places we went

to be alone together. 

Along the seawall, through

the bones of old homes

to the lemon tree balcony,

where you knelt at my feet

as I leaned against concrete,

breathing on the sky.

You were engaged

to a rich girl in another country 

but I didn't care

because at the turn

of the 21st century,

it was always hot

in the city of Havana,

where the guava hung

ripe from the tree, and

you tasted like cigarettes,

chocolate and salt, when

you kissed me like lightning

kissing the dark sea—

waters, washing below

the edge of our knowledge.

Copyright © 2016 | Pet Murmur