365 Poems/219 Decisions (Rough First Draft)
You say my decisions are stupid,
then kiss me in the dip above my top lip
and think you’ve made everything
peaceful again, that I’ll hunker down,
warm my fingers before stroking
the length of your back.
But I’m still a wolf with plans,
even though my heart hangs cold
and heavy, while you turn your back
pour the rest of the coffee into a tall,
stainless steel flask, and tell me
over your shoulder, to stop reaching
for the stars because I’ll never touch them.
And that’s when I open the door,
and pull out the key. That’s when I tell
you to get your coat, your coffee and leave,
and you do so, with minimal fuss and a sneer.
And I wonder why I’d waited. Why I’d tried
to feel connected to you every time the hot chaos
was over for another few hours.
And everything is peaceful now.
And I can feel my heart thaw. It hurts.
Outside, the first snow falls.