Conversations

It’s our day.

I place my head on your lap, look up into your eyes and you smile.

It’s our day, just you and I.

We talk of the little things that matter…like how it sucks that we are great together and I am not keen on saying “yes” on “walking down the aisle” to you.

We talk of the little things that matter, like how when you are with me, you know there ain’t no other heaven on earth.

closed glass-panel window inside dark room
unsplash.com

You call me sunshine, I call you rain.

You call me dawn, I call you dusk.

You call me bloom, I call you soon…it’s our love.

We do well together, you and I.

And when I ask about her, on why you saw the need to be with her, you say it started with a conversation. You said “hi,” and she said “hi, how are you?”

You started talking about the color of her hair and she moved closer to you.

I cannot bring myself to say the words, for I fear that I’ll bleed even in my words,

I’ve cried over this for ten days, but here I am, seeing you and wondering just how you would find comfort in another…how easy it is for you to take another in your arms because she smiled at you…what was it? I ask.

You say “I don’t know…it was a mistake.”

But, love, it started with a conversation…how could “hi” be a mistake, how could “I like you,” be a mistake, how could “come lay with me” be a mistake…all these conversations.

It’s why you and I are miles apart,

My heart bleeds at the thought of you in the arms of another,

But just like my words, you’ll never hear none of it.


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