The sun came in too soon.
Too bright for the kind of silence we carried
between the folds of that blanket.
We got up.
You brushed your hair,
I brushed off the ache.
Coffee cups clinked in the kitchen,
our friends laughed,
like we werenʼt unraveling
in the smallest gestures.
You poured me a cup̶
black, no sugar.
You remembered.
I laughed at someoneʼs joke,
but my eyes kept searching for you
like a goddamn reflex.
Then came the ride home.
"My place is the other way," I said.
I know," you answered,
shrugging, like driving 8 miles out of your way
was just another friendly thing to do.
Like sleeping beside me,
breathing in sync,
sharing silence deeper than any kiss,
was just something friends do.
I didnʼt argue.
I let the wind drown the questions I didnʼt ask.
We arrived at my door.
You didnʼt say much.
Just looked at me̶
with those fucking eyes that say everything
but commit to nothing.
And I? I smiled.
Like a coward.
Like someone whoʼs still holding on to a fantasy
painted in grey.