my iranian boy has a colgate smile
and hazelnut coffee-colored skin
he wears heavy metal t-shirts
tucked into his low-slung jeans
and we speak in fractured french
as i order my daily dinner crepe
but we practice english
when we're out dancing
to the beat of the strobe lights
and i'm not sure if he ever forgave me
for never saying goodbye
but i wrote his name all over my notebooks
four months after my plane ride home
my dear iranian boy, i'm sorry
i never told you that i loved you