I Am Here
I am here.
Where are you?
We are standing in a room with no view.
Except the two of us, there is nothing to look at.
I see you, with your folded arms and that green baseball cap.
I see your plaid shirt and your worn out boots.
The look in your brown eyes says everything.
We are done, we are nothing anymore.
But you don’t say it. Instead, you let it sit there like the wind.
Our hate, our passion, our mistakes linger like molasses,
thick and sweet.
There are cards on the table.
Want to play?
I ask as you sit down on a creaky wooden chair.
You have grown some facial hair around your chin.
The yellow light above highlights your wrinkles,
you look older.
We are older.
We look at each other as if we never exchanged caresses.
As if we don’t know each other’s scents in the middle of the night.
As if we never used affectionate words.
As if we never lied to each other.
As if we had never made each other cry.
The small specks in your eyes make your face sad.
How big is this room, it feels very small just staring at you.
You look like a small day, maybe a Thursday
No one ever talks about Thursdays.
They are almost good, almost the weekend, but not.
That’s what we were, almost a good thing, but then.
We are Thursday people, we have potential.
Where is the rest of the week?
What is on the calendar of your life,
when you no longer pencil me in?
The wood on this table is chipped.
Did you notice it or is it just me that sees
the imperfections of things?
I could not stand your imperfect words
that you said with a mouth dripping with
Hollandaise sauce as you licked your lips.
I made you those eggs and I deserve a bite.
I deserved a piece of your life
it is not a pie, there is enough for both of us.
nina