We’re playing a silly get-to-know-you card game in my room,
like you do on rainy first dates during a pandemic.

We take turns asking each other its personal questions, 
until one I read twists my voice with a forgotten fear. 

“Do you think I fall in love easily?”

The words leap from the card and swirl through the air,
an ironic accusation from the universe.

I laugh lightly and agree with him that
“I don’t seem like the kind of person who can easily open up.”

I drown the butterflies in my stomach with memories
of being intoxicated with the misleading charm of feeling wanted.

Thinking about you feels like drinking red wine alone
from an uncorked bottle left over from the night before.

A bittersweet reminder of a more romantic time.