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.