layl

three of us rigid in a run-down

diner booth. i sat a mile and a half

away beside you and pretended

it didn’t hurt. you sat a mile and a half

away beside me, a gavel held

limply in the tips of your fingers.

you ignored me until, for some reason,

you didn’t. until you could

look at my face and give me

a mona lisa smile that whispered,

maybe things can be good again.

and i knew the six-year-old sorries

that lay bitter on my tongue

would have to wait a little longer,

but at least i could offer you

patience.

and then i woke up, and i realized

and smile, warmed that you are

but to harden is to become inhuman

so i relinquish my heart and her safety

and only hope someone will be kind enough