Why does he close the door to say goodbye to me.
What doesn’t he want our friends to see?
I imagine that his roommate—my friend—
is peering through the peephole
and I imagine there are people
walking down this hall
I imagine what they’d think
of the embrace he’s giving me.
But nobody’s there to confirm what I see.
And later, when I have my suitcase and we’re
pausing by the staircase, wordless, my ride waiting in the garage—
I drop my disguise and grab him again
I hear him drop my duffel and feel both his arms
wrap around me.
Any question of love automatically answered
by the pressure on my ribs.
I know it’s not possible. I move to let go but he pulls me back into him
briefly, takes the
air out of my lungs with the force of it.
My chin brushes his hair when he lets go.
Anything but a kiss, I know.
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