Here, For Now, I Stay

The last time I said the word “feelings” to him

He ran out faster than he’s ever run on that 100-yard field.

I wasn’t even talking about my feelings,

I keep those hidden on purpose.

When we were alone, weeks later

he told me that he had no feelings,

Any more. 

That was the closest he’s ever come to letting his heart speak.

That suit, so thoroughly constructed.

No holes, no rips, no potential for premature unraveling.

It is of the thickest material.

In such an armor he cannot be slain.

It feels frozen against my cheek,

Sharp at every joint, abrasive to my skin.

I hurl my craving ego at the repellant metal wall, 

Though every shred of common sense screams at me to go. 

I had made my decision months ago:

A star-filled night I sat on the curb,

Enjoying my own moment.

And he had stepped out to enjoy his.

Soft conversation came easily as we stared up at infinity. 

My arm brushed his, soft and warm,

The suit hung in his closet; he would put it on tomorrow. 

And I would stay.