You’re a one night stand
But we spent too many nights
I lost count of it.
You’re that unexpected kiss
On a drunken wasted night
Of vomits and vodka.
You’re that awkward hi
Exchanged by strangers who
Thought they both knew each other
But were clearly mistaken for another.
You’re the bruise that turns blue
When I accidentally bump my leg
On the corner of the bed.
You’re the scar that I never
Knew I had.
You’re the bittersweet taste in
My mouth every morning.
You’re the last thought lingering
In my head before slumber takes me
And you’re the vagueness that
Haunts me in my dreams.
You’re the scalding hot shower
In a cold freezing morning.
You’re the boiling tea that numbs
My tongue for the rest of the day.
You’re the obsession
I will never learn to let go of.
You’re that person I will
Never get to call mine.
You’re the one that got away.
Three is the number of the triad, of the unit formed by duality (2) and its offspring (1), of the three faces of the goddess (virgin, mother, and crone), of the creation that is made possible by joining forces with another, the tripartite genitalia of the male and the genital triangle of the female.