The Manuscript

Now and then she rereads the manuscript
Of the entire torrid affair
They compare their licenses
He said, “I’m not a doner but
I’d give you my heart if you needed it”

She rolled her eyes and said
“You’re a professional”
He said, “No, just a good samaritan”
He said that if the sex was half as good
As the conversation was
Soon they’d be pushing strollers
But soon it was over

At the age of him, she wishes she was thirty
And made coffee evеry morning in a french press
Afterwards shе only ate kids cereal
And couldn’t sleep unless it was in her mother’s bed
Then she dated boys who were her own age
With dart boards on the backs of their doors
She thought about how he said
Since she was so wise beyond her years
Everything had been above board
She wasn’t sure

And the years passed like scenes of a show
The professor said to write what you know
Looking backwards might be the only way to move forward

Then the actors were hitting their marks
And the slow dance was a light with the sparks
And the tears fell in synchronicity with the score

And at last
She knew what the agony has been for

The only thing that’s left is the manuscript
One last souvenir from my trip to your shores
Now and then I reread the manuscript
But the story isn’t mine anymore