Black Friday Gift

Blank stares trapped in the rearview mirrors, she’d say.

She’d explain away what people said

behind closed doors with my name on their tongues.

The hope in my heart

I thought was a drought

turned into shouts in the dark

through lips of words I couldn’t rearrange.

Your name was the complacency

that left dust-hazed clouds.

I prayed for your return on Black Friday,

hoping you’d give me a break or a discount.

I caught my breath at the maple

trees.

The tips of the skeletal

branches tipped with white

as snowflakes touch my face,

a light breeze carries with it

a selfish reflection hidden

under my tongue for what I need.

What I wanted to say is;

what my dreams demanded of me.

I love you.

A perfect ball of snow

splattered on my chest.

I looked up; she was sitting in the tree

like we used to do as kids.

Home for good.

By Andy Cooper

Twitter: AC0040