Ten.

I love you.
We fit so well together
And you are the lost puzzle piece
That I didn't know was missing.
We are effortless
And beautiful
Because you love me, too
And every time you say it
The words fall into my mouth
And I savor the taste
And the way they rattle behind my lips.

Nine.

We bicker sometimes.
You don't like the pasta I make
And I don't like how late you work.
But you whisper sweet nothings to me
While I clean the dishes.
Then you pull me against you
In our room
When the dishes are done
And I liquefy
Like ice in hot coffee.
And we'll be okay.

Eight.

I stayed up for you.
You didn't come home
At five like you always do.
There's food in the fridge
And my trust in the doorstep
Where you wipe your shoes
At two a.m.
You go to bed.
I follow behind
Not asking questions,
Not wanting to know.

Seven.

I haven't talked about it.
You haven't talked about it.
We don't talk anymore.

Six.

Where do you go? I say.
What do you mean? You say.
When you're not here.
Work, you say.
I know that's not it, I say. Please don't lie to me anymore.
But you tell me you don't want to talk about it.
You storm off to bed
And I melt against
The cold linoleum
Like I once did
In your arms.

Five.

I haven't looked in your eyes
Since that night
When the dusty kitchen floor
Held me closer
Than you have in months.
My tears did nothing
To wash away the fear
That the liqueur didn't.

Four.

I ask if it's another man.
You don't reply at first
And then deny.
But I know.
I've known.
I ask who it is.
Can you at least tell me that? I say.
Your silence fills the room
Like a cup overflowing
With water
Or something murkier.
You say it so quietly,
A woman from work,
And I nod,
Blinking through the salty licks of tears.
How could I possibly have any left?
You don't say you're sorry.

Three.

You pack up your things.
She comes by to pick them up.
You look right through me and say  you've fallen in love.
I say nothing
Because I haven't yet fallen out of it.

Two.

My bed is cold.
My mornings are quiet.
I'm no longer cooking for two.
There is no one to come home to
Or to come home to me.
I sit alone by the window
Not even
One with the stars.
I feel hollow.

One.

I see you
Around town sometimes.
With her
And a red-faced baby boy
Who looks just like you do.
I love you.
And I don't think I'll ever stop.

Zero.