Mi Cielo

I have this script:
our eyes meet, I look down;
the one boy I want to talk to leaves me at a loss for words
there's this monologue in my head, every time you walk away
you fool, why didn't you ask him to stay?
It's a bilingual jumble of our story
and the one we might never write
It's a picture, a reel. A movie in my mind.
I can see us sitting on the sidewalk
and you stopping the words from leaving my mouth
with your lips, with your beautiful tongue
after making me sea-sick with your honey colored gaze
laced with emerald that matches the grass we sit in.
The grass that will disappear in a month or so
after surrendering to the Ohio winter.
Will we disappear in a month?
If I never get the nerve to say hello in this cafe...
wait, that line has already been used.
It's never enough. There's nothing left to say
that hasn't already worn out its welcome;
nothing left to rehearse in my head-
it has to come out.
The sorry. The I need you. The I want those moonlit nights back.
It's too late now. At least for today.
You in your cozy sweatshirt
and worn out shoes
are walking away.
lo siento, mi cielo
maybe tomorow.