It was the best night of the worst year. That is how I still think of it:

Perhaps that was an overestimation on my part. Me,

In legendary tones of blue, taking the lead; and

You, eager to please: murmuring an unfamiliar phrase

Through sleepy telephone static. It felt right. Perhaps I misjudged

That warmth is not always comfort; I may have miscalculated the weight of an anchor.

                                                                                            (It may have been an over-expectation)

That is why I held on too long. Just to make you aware that I could have kept you safe,

I contrived to haunt you with forensic creativity: purely innocuous motives.

It was a good night. I hope you understand.