The embrace: not wanting to let go

Driving past familiar black shut down Broadway store fronts at one AM
i remember how she hugged me on her way out
before leaving town on our last shift together
in the crawlspace of a faded plastic hung hallway

red brick rubbed raw from the very orders that consumed
everything that once stood in out minds
watching that catch and release slip
arms not wanting to let go

what it felt like to be cared for
by a friend
it's the tear away that kills me inside
there's only a hand full of people i connect with anymore

now there's even less

walking through the gravel busted septic line replacement parking lot
grey alley guardrails graffiti tags
cheap trash strewn for lack of giving a shit
beside big blue beer bottle Dempster dumpsters

empty drug dealers apartments screen doors
blowing broken in the wind

am i the one that needs saving?