Made up days

It’s only this hard
Against easy imaginings
When
All the scents on the scented breeze
Were sweeter

I looked and moved against glass
We were together in the light
Something chill
Pulled at the hilled hairs
On your bare arms

A door opened and then slammed
Spat music at us in scratched chords
A monochrome cat paused

Paper romance
Those were the years of cigarettes
Telephones in cold places
Made up days
Waiting for breezes
Hissing at cats