Hypotheticals

I’m scared to sleep with you because I like you.

Because we hit it off immediately and everything

is easy and we laugh more than we’re silent

and when we’re silent, it’s comfortable.

Do you know how rare that is

for strangers?

Or maybe this is your schtick, maybe you’re

a really smooth talker and you’re good at this game and maybe

like all the times before you

I’m falling for an act.

Maybe you’ll stick around for a few more weeks.

Maybe those weeks turn to months

because we lose track of time

because we’re busy

trying to find creative success

and, quite separately, trying to pay our bills.

Months will go by and you’ll have forgotten to tell me

you don’t want anything serious and

you’re not in a place to commit and

you need to focus on you right now.

One night when we’re holding hands under the covers

looking up at the ceiling

talking until four in the morning

you’ll look over and see in my eyes that my walls have come down

and it’ll remind you to tell me

that you can’t stay.

And I’ve learned too much to pretend I can’t hear you—

to pretend you’ll change your mind.

If you can’t stay, you can’t come in.