hung jury

hung jury by Casey Winchell

I. (Me, You, her)
11:33 PM, packed up like sardines, backseat.
seeking sanctuary between two industrial buildings,
mystery gleaming from the white in your eyes,
we share malt liquor and conversation.
you like her dry remarks,
and my warm tone.
II. (You, her)
12:01 AM, hand in hand, alleyway.
noticing the beauty between her cherry lips,
sweat seeping out of the palm of your hand,
you share an empty kiss and no conversation.
you like the way her mouth moves,
and see me ahead.
III. (Us)
12: 16 AM, pushing and pulling, loft entrance.
seeking forgiveness in the shape of my brows,
promises beaming off of your olive face,
we share a fire-worked kiss.
you forget her presence
and I never do.