The Last Night I Didn’t Know

The stub crushed in my pocket—

faded ink, a night folded into folds.

We laughed too loud in a bar

that cracked under old songs,

the band a blur, strangers pressing close.

No one said goodbye,

just music spilled into the air

like spilled beer sticky and warm.

I kept the ticket in my coat,

never guessing that crackling night

was the last one stitched to us.

That stub felt heavier today—

a thin slice of quiet

between all the things unsaid.