I Should Go

Tonight was nice. It’s not often we get to talk, and listen. I live for these moments-- we’re eating and our mouths are full, we hurry chewing to keep talking. Our voices, like skin, connect us. Scars heal, discordant voices harmonize. Driving home from dinner, Al Green is in the backseat, and all around us. My hand rests on the gearshift, you trace your fingers up my forearm, Over my shoulder, And cradle my cheek. I press into you. Finally home, Tired limbs scramble At buttons and clasps to free our flesh. Our bodies crying sweat, Screaming, Kissing, scratching, swooned to the sweet moan filling the room. Oily skin sliding, Unearthed lost sensations. Its ecstasy feels like talking And listening. Pressing in, finally still. My head rests in your lap, looking up at you. Why do you look away? I ask Where are you? You shake your head, Keeping focus. I only have ideas on where you’ve gone. The past went unanswered for so long, Are you brought to your knees as you face it again or is this the 1st time? Finally, I hear This wasn’t supposed to happen. why not? I moved on, you moved on. It was supposed to be over when you moved to Chicago. this doesn’t have to be anything. It can just be a nice night. maybe you’re right I mean… of course I enjoyed being with you again. I always felt like you saw me. But I get that might just be how I feel. Im sorry, I’ve led you on. I can’t say I feel the same. I’m sorry. Let’s just enjoy what time we have. Im gonna go to bed. You flip the lights off and turn your back to me. I lay down, and hold you but I feel you staring at the darkness, searching. An answer’s there. Listen. I’ll search the darkness too. I ask if you want me to stay. You’re silent. I say Should I go? I don’t know. The words barely fall out. I should go. I get my things and watch you, Hoping you’d turn over and say something. Anything. not even that you’d ask I’d stay. I walk over and give you a kiss on the forehead. You’re not here. You’re drowning in the past or screaming at the present. Listening can hurt. I press my fingers into you, your shoulder, trying to get one last memory of how you feel, you put your hand on top of mine, you look at me then disappear again. I leave too. I stand on the curb awhile. Dull flourescent streetlights line the empty road. The silent city, the jungle at night, carcasses & eyes watching from the shadows. Memories that bite, Bright flashes, Flooding in through the silence: The warmth of your voice waking me up Your wit that cuts me to the quick The glint of light in your tears when we said goodbye — the last time. You dropped me off at the airport, We cried the whole way there, Together. We thanked each other for our time. For being in each other’s lives when we were. We knew we couldn’t make it last longer than time allowed. I get out of the car and kiss you goodbye. We’re already getting shooed away by the airport traffic police. I start to walk inside and watch you drive away. I see you looking back at me. I’m back at the curb outside your apartment. I breathe alone, cry and hear nothing But a younger me patting me on the back & telling me it’s ok. It is time to go. Finally, I get in my car and drive away. I’ll remember and listen. I’m not sorry it hurts.