If It Feels Good Do It

He watches her walk into his arms.
The soft orange glow. The rising sun.
A city morning, just begun.
Then slowly away, she walks far.

In a white room where she is not,
he packs his suitcase, looking down,
foreign noise covering his heart’s sound,
as the blanket muffles his cough

when he leans backwards in his seat,
on business class, going home.
Plane nearly full, he is alone.
Alright, sir? Depends what you mean.

Hours and miles back to the old place,
and the goals of life he wanted.
Nightly though, his heart is haunted,
by a slow, lingering embrace.

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