We lie- wrapped up in each other
in a bed that belongs to neither of us.
We lie when we say
There's something special about this.
We're trapped; legs tangled,
in a room of dark silence.
A heavy fog of confusion.
We each retreat to our thoughts.
Looking back, I wonder what you thought of.
I question: Did you think of her?
and in the same breath I must ask
When she's lying naked in your arms, do you think of me?
Your voice is a fist,
shattering the smooth glass wall of our silence.
"Want a cigarette?"
"Yeah, just let me get dressed."
Our clothes- A heap on the floor.
We dress together.
I pull on your shirt, you hand me my shorts.
On the back porch you hold me close,
as if sharing your body heat with me
will make either of us forget
this ends tomorrow.
Your lips touching my ear-
you whisper over the marine wind,
"I'll miss you."
I want to say it back.
But I won't (can't) cry in front of you
So I kiss you instead.
You taste like an ashtray,
but then again, so does the cigarette in my hand.
I find you now
between Newports and pizza,
vodka and cranberry juice.
And when I lie in the dark silence of my room,
I long to be tangled up in your arms
as I drift to sleep.
And I wish I had just said,
despite the tears that would follow,
"I'll miss you too."