Like Strangers
We will sit across from each other and pretend we are just friends.
It is so clear in your eyes what your lips cannot speak — as though we’ve never met.
Across from each other, yet not meant for each other.
If we were relevant, would you love me for the hell of it?
Or would you try to think of me without ripping your heart out?
We should stay awhile — together —
and watch the passersby flee to the corners of the world,
as though all is right the way they want it,
except for us, two pieces out of place in each other.
Look up at the stars as if they shine for us,
and the wind singing as though I wrote a song for you,
while you pale before me in helplessness.
What are the things you do?
Are they beautiful enough for me to bleed myself dry?
We should talk more, but not say the truth.
I like to close that door when it is about me,
yet I lean on your doorstep to push my luck.
Do I love you? I’m sorry.
A joyride that haunts me —
I wish this wasn’t about you.
I am someone you don’t want around.
I hold this drink in my hands
as if it were you I’m gripping,
nursing the bottle
while you drift through my bed like a wandering ghost.
Yet I fall with every step —
something I won’t talk about.
I know — I treat us like strangers.
I miss you like an inferno in my heart.
It kills me that I’ll run out of humor to keep you by me —
someone you will learn to forget,
and never need again.
We should just sit.
We should stay awhile.
We should talk about the passersby
and drift to separate corners of the world
without looking back at each other —
like strangers.
W