Like a star,
it pulsed.
Glowed for a moment
and I almost
missed it.
It did, glow, though.
I saw it.
Before it went out.
It went out.
Not with a crack
or a pop
or a shout.
Just quiet.
Like it wasn't there
at all.
Nothing to begin with.
Not an ember.
Not a star.

hey, Privacy!
How are you?
Are you coming out to tea?
"I don't think so,"
you say.
"I have to be somewhere at 3."

Now, if I don't say goodnight,
it's weird.
We're not together
still we seek affection, comfort
in each other.
But if time goes by
and we don't talk,
you're in tears.
This fall it's a year.

I go out
and I don't want to have to
answer to you.
I don't feel like
making excuses
but you know everything
I do.
I care though;
I don't want to upset you.

I could lie
or be vague
but my pride is at stake
So I'll stick with vague,
force you to wade
through my words
so carefully chosen,
––off-handedly given
so if you find out
I'm dating again
you won't blow up
we can still be friends.
I'll be forgiven
and you won't close up.

'Cause I would hate for that to happen.
And I know you would too.
So don't let it happen
Let's just build something new.
Intimacy without ***.
Love and trust without a partnership.
I know it's possible.
But with us,
every drink turns into
another night together.
Our hours go by
because it feels unnatural
'cutting things short arbitrarily.'
Tearing apart what has
grown together now.
...You and I are not a perfect match.
There's space between these ridges.
Separately,
you can see we're not the right pieces.
You're not the right fit.
For me.
And it *****
Because I wish you were.
It *****
seeing someone you care so much about
be so torn open, heartbroken

(I think of everything a parent hopes
will never happen to their child
because, I think, they know how it felt
when it happened to them.)
It. *****. Knowing
that person your mother feared is me.

At least I have a reason now;
something to grasp how
I could disgust her so much.
But it's not.
I want to say it's not.

I'd rather you didn't know of my shame
that thing I feel
when I pull you back and forth.
I know, I know, I know
I'm to blame.
Wanting one thing for you
So I say it.
I don't want to play this game
But I know it's what you want to hear.
So I hold you close
because I think I'll hurt you less
if I'm near.

Leaving means retreating means fleeing
to you.  From something 'too real'
you think I'm incapable of handling.  
But that's not it.
I don't feel what you feel.
I will suffer repercussions of
not seeing you,
someone I've grown attached to
and feeling the void I've created.
I've instated.
And I know you'll be so mad.
****, you'd be such a
loyal friend to have.

My grandfather...
Poetry?
–He wouldn't understand.
Flying airplanes?
That he comprehends.
'The feeling of mornings
and sunrise' he needs,
he says.
'They are the core'
of his being.  
...He doesn't expect me
to understand.
-Won't let me say I do.

I don't know why
he laughs so much.
No one said anything
funny.
He doesn't want to talk
about the War.

Everyday
People come in here
With their skin sagging below what should be.
I don’t mind.
I’m in the concessions.
It's okay if you want butter.