Locking Eyes with the Elephant in the Room

Sometimes,

I feel it like the sharpest pang

Hands gripped to bar, pushing

Outside where things are cold

 

Living,

In a pause, I have little faith in

Weak wrists pressed to bar tops

Kissing in the dark corners

 

Passionate,

To a fault but bending over with

Rhetoric, repeating myself aloud,

With my voice, pitched too high

 

Incessant,

She tells me to quiet down, don’t

Scare the sleeping children, I

Remember holding her face

 

Wishing,

for one last kiss before I left

In front of a Radio Shack, beside

Rows of carts where we abandoned them

 

She let me,

Kiss her, I wailed softly, a quiet thing

A new hurt to set up a string of pains

Wrapped around my fresh, slender neck

 

To bear,

The weight for a lifetime

Sometimes I feel it like a pang

Missing the bar I pushed so cold.

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