Last

Unspoken understanding

I look into his eyes

knowing he won't last long.

He knows I won't be there

and there is no deeper knowledge of our hardships.

My shoes won't fit

and he steps over them,

walking over my welcome mat,

to wait on my bed,

pressing his smell into my pillows.

I dream of one night of bliss

but my dreams end there.

I don't welcome myself to challenges.

I don't allow my heart to heal.

To forget yesterday

and let the dust fall,

from my shoulders,

down my back to be left behind me,

unsettles my core.

All I am is control.

But there he is, waiting for me,

with a hand behind his head

and the other on his chest,

making himself comfortable

where I sleep.

Why do I hold back?

Why do I live one night at a time?

I run from papercuts and throw myself into shattered glass.

Can he understand my insecurities?

And not look passed them?

Tomorrow he will be gone

and I will hold onto his memory

imprinted in my bed,

his lingering scent infused

in my pillows where I lay my mind;

like an unread love letter--

understanding the flesh

but foregoing the deeper intimacies.

He knows I won't let him.

He knows he can't push passed

my unwelcoming heart;

that door is closed.

I wish, so desperately,

to look passed his strengths

and embrace his weaknesses,

like a real woman.

But I look into his eyes,

looking into mine,

knowing he won't last long.