By Kelly Grace Thomas

I have spent nights trying to wash your name off my lips,

wading on the second chance shore, waiting for this craving to break.

How quickly men turn from people to place. 

Supermarkets of idols bought on credit card beliefs.

I will never stop owing you.

You said you would teach me to dance

into the blue September bookcases,

where we would find words to hang our promises on.

Dog-eared days with bike rides and night swims

Naked in the ocean, unapologetic and shivering.

Kissed by the cobalt welcome.

It’s a promise to that will be welcomed on someone else’s watch