"Can we table this conversation?"
He asks.
Two glasses of red wine
rest between us.
He plays with the stem
with his stable hand.
I do not respond.
I know he cannot
answer what
I want answered.
I look at him,
overcome with
a sorrow
that the blue of his eyes
does not calm.
"This is the first serious
relationship
I've experienced."
He continues,
"I do not want
my life to feel
settled yet."
As I watch his
lips move
I hear
a different narrative
an unsaid message.
He takes a bite
of the appetizer
in front of us.
It's come before
we've ordered
the main course.
I watch as he
enjoys its taste.
He takes another bite.
"What should we order next?"
He asks, excitedly.
Next?
I want to ask.
Isn't this enough?
Explore
"I want to explore the world,
with you,"
He says, imploring.
"I want to explore this city,
together."
He smiles.
I look at him
at his crystal,
calculating eyes.
"My love,"
I want to say.
"There's only one thing
I want to explore."
Instead I laugh
placing my arms
around his shoulders.
We stay like this
as he rocks side to side
breathing in my hair.
He heads into the bedroom
signaling the end of
the conversation.
"You,"
I whisper
as he disappears
around the corner.
Lovable
He tells me
I am lovable
when I thought
for so long
I was not.
More time
“I need more time,”
he says,
earnestly.
I need more, too,
I want to respond.
I need more time
with you
knowing it will not
be something
fleeting
or fallible.
“I’m content
and happy,”
he reasons.
I am too,
I want to say.
I am so happy
that I’m unsure
if I can ever be as joyful
if you were not here
to share in it.
"More time,"
we both request
with different reasons
for wanting the same thing.
Request
You, sitting there
in my room
full of fleeting
Autumn sunlight
I wanted nothing more
than permanence.
“How about we
spend the day
just laying here
looking at each other?”
You laughed
as if my question
was comical
As if it was
possible
for me to want
anything
beyond life
in your eyes.
28
I am
(I feel)
so loved
I could burst
in its glow.
Meditate
The doctor
asks me
if I meditate.
He tells me
it may help
alleviate
my anxiety
my (often) self-made
turmoil.
I smile.
“Sure,”
I say.
I meditate
in the mornings
when his
hand reaches
under
the covers
for my own.
I meditate
under the rays
of the rising sun
as I
listen to his sounds
of sleep.
I meditate
in the smell
of his skin
on the constellation
of his sun spots
in the wrinkles
around his mouth
as he smiles.
"Yes,"
I continue.
"I meditate every day."
I meditate
to my heart’s song
and the rhythm
it shares with his.
