Wrong Word

He said it while the sun went down,

a word that felt like borrowed clothes.

I looked away, I checked my watch,

I felt the way a person loathes

a compliment that doesn't fit.

I wanted soap, I wanted rain.

I looked at him and felt a sharp

and very specific kind of pain.

I found the photo yesterday,

a thumbprint blurred across the lens.

I look like someone lost in transit,

waiting for the night to end.