“Humans are as disposable as apple cores” you said,
lighting a cigarette, staring up at the stars.
I nodded but I didn’t really agree.
I didn’t understand what you meant.
We shared the silence,
I wriggled a bit and looked up at the stars too.
We did this sometimes,
Other times we didn’t.
Sometimes we drove,
sometimes we told stories.
Once you surprised me with Christmas lights,
bright reds, oranges and blues.
We don’t talk anymore, which is good
because you probably would’ve hurt me, or I, you.
I sent you a message last week.
“Humans are as disposable as apple cores”
and I understand it now.