You casually mention the news
as I make to get out of the car. They
(the words, those feisty, physical things)
hold me back, looping their nets around my
"What?" I whisper, numb, uncomprehending.
Why would you bring something
like that up without having me sit down, first?
My thoughts gather in a line behind my tongue,
rudely jostling and cutting in front of each other.
"Yeah," you say and for the first time I
can see emotion in your eyes
(you're trying so hard to act unaffected).
A cold shock pierces my stomach and
I somehow hold those thoughts back behind
the dam of my teeth and lips.
"No more?" I finish, making sure.
"Never again," you reply and instead of crying,
I want to slap you.
Move on, then, I want to snarl. Move on, but remember,
you'll be leaving me behind, when you do.