I recall the blushing of his face from the vacant glow-
when he told me those words in the spilling light.
His voice a gentle lull in the moonlit night,
a sound of molasses dripping from his mouth.
The tick of his nervous eyebrow, and the curve of his pink lips,
hypnotized the moment as pure bliss.
Only the words were less poetic, dry and recycled-
“I fell in love with her instead, but we can still be friends.”