A darkened night, the sound of the ocean,
and a frustration her presence diffused.
We spoke, we joked, walked around, and we mused.
Her company was sweet, kind, but broken.
And was, indeed, a little outspoken:
she did not hide that she had been abused.
She was not shy that love had left her bruised
but remained confident, and in motion.
We talked about healthy relationships,
and we spoke of our dislike for the snow.
We shared sambuca, and the waning day.
Our drinks and our day finished, we shared lips.
Dramatic irony: I had to go,
but within myself, her presence will stay.