It doesn’t happen all at once
it happens slowly
like a flood
water rising cautiously
a quiet rebellion
spilling over enemy lines with a vengeance
minute by minute, you feel it
the gravitational pull on your body
moving you further and further apart
your mother says that you will
find your way back to him,
but you are not so sure
it does not happen all at once
it happens like the
continents drifting apart
a few centimeters per year
it happens so slowly
you can’t even see it
until it is too late
until the love waltzing in the ball
room of your chest goes quiet
and everyone stops dancing
he grabs your hand and asks you
to go someplace quiet
you don’t go with him
you stay silent
your heart is a still drum
he takes your pulse with his teeth
tells you he doesn’t
understand
how you could change your mind
so suddenly
it doesn’t happen all at once
remember that, even when he
tries to convince you that things
were fine the day before
tell him that the earth is moving
microscopic distances as you speak
that neither of you are in the same
place that you were
yesterday.