I’ll run my hands along your thighs and wonder if your heart pounds. I’ll kiss along your collarbone and look for goosebumps on your skin. My vision gets hazy while your hands get lazy and I can feel my heart twist in my chest. Where is your head at? Why do you squeeze your eyes closed?

You wait for me to come home to you while I’m out of the house again. I wait for you to yearn for me, act like I’m something to miss. I lock my phone and put it away as you turn in for the night. Tomorrow, you don’t ask questions and I don’t really wonder why. When did we turn into this? What more can we avoid?

We sit down and the air is different, sobering and loaded with ache. We quietly talk through our seismic shift, never allowing the table to shake. I ask if you actually like me and then you ask me if I care. Do you think I’m worth the price you’ll pay? Can I forgive you and play fair?

One year later and things have changed. We smile more, we’ve rearranged. We talk about nothing and laugh loud when we can. But I dream and write in private and you leave me out of your study plans. My poker face is tired, I’m ready to step off the ride. How long can we sustain this? Will you support the changing tide?

I reach out for you under covers, touch your hand and pull you close. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness, no longer startling at our ghosts. My hopeful soul still clutches yours, stitched together with trepidation and pride. We stop asking questions. I stop looking for exit signs.