and I don’t know why.
It’s just a question, a word.
Still, he said it,
and my body acts like it’s been shot.
I bite the inside of my cheek,
making the tear go numb.
His eyes fall deeper into me,
scooping up the pieces of the silence.
He knows what it’s costing me just to sit here in the question, so he’s finding the answer for me.
Then his breath pulls deeper, chest rising like he’s about to throw himself off a ledge.
Like he's about to do the dumbest thing.
And he does.
He leans in closer.
And he holds out his hand to me?—
open, safe—asking for mine.
I don’t hesitate.
My hand’s slipping inside his,
forgetting how to be anywhere else.
It’s only his hand, fingers and skin, but holding it feels like sitting in front of a fire on a cold day.
Then he wraps his other hand around mine,
holding me warm, strong, snug.
“I didn’t ask you to come here tonight for closure, Sonny.”
He’s looking down at our hands as he says it.
Until he lifts his head, eyes crashing into mine.
“I'm not done with us. Not by a fuckin' mile."
The floor
falls out from under me.
My heart
stops.
Just to hush its beating so it could listen,
