We both know
I’m bad at breakfast.
And good at preparing it for others.
But today I wish I liked eggs,
Loved a muffin,
Or toast.
So we could still love each other
When you prepare your own.

He watches her,
Jaw set,
As her eyes plead
The case her lips
Can’t speak.
“No,”
His eyes respond.
And, “not again,”
From his clenched jaw.
And “no... god please, no,”
From his tired shoulders.
And the dog barks,
And the kid calls,
And she moves as he walks past.
“I’m not leaving,”
She whispers,
With confidence,
To her angry cat,
“And sometimes that scares me.”

I’m stumbling around in the dark
When you clutch my shoulders.
(I’m probably thirsty,
Or going to ***.)
“I love you so much,”
I hear you say.
“I’m so sorry.”
And I think I hear tears in your voice.
And maybe it’s my tequila and benadryl,
Or your whiskey and coke,
But probably it’s both.
“Forever,”
I hear myself say,
And I know you feel tears on my face.
“Forever.”
And you refill my water while I *** in the dark.

And in the morning
I roll out
My old mat.
And on it
I gather
My stray
Yearnings
Concerns
Memories
Regrets
Hopes
Et cetera,
Making room
For them to thrash
And reach
And tumble about
Without taking me with them.

Your brows
Draw tight
Darkening rings
Below those icy blues,
And I watch
You seep
From view,
Refusing
To be probed.

Her eyes close slightly,
And her lashes
Obscure
His offers
For connection.
She smiles
And her lips
***** barriers
She can huddle behind
If she gets very small.
She draws him close
And her sighs
Drown out
Her gasps for air.
But if he notices aloud,
The squinting, or smiling, or *******,
And how something’s a little bit different,
She might not stay to be seen.

Sometimes
I see
Evidence
In your text messages
That you are lost
But not enough evidence
To tell me where.