Sunset.

I took down my hair and flew through the yellow lights. Each intersection had a woman on the corner, waiting for their chance to move. I flew to you.
Later, I ate with you but looked at the sky alone, with a quiet and sole interpretation.
I asked, “I wonder how many times we’ve looked at a sky, called it beautiful, and then completely forgotten it?” I asked.
You said.¬†“All I heard was ‘completely forgotten’,” you said.
Grinning, I explained why that fleeting moment was ironic.
In that moment, we were the sky.

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Sunset.