That last few feet were the hardest
The tile floor suddenly tar, even the dead leaves didn’t follow
Just blew in with the open door but stopped
Unlike the cold that tickled her bare ankles
He stopped too. Didn’t expect her home at 3
Her fingers caressing a chip in her mug, minty tea
She wondered why he’d come home but didn’t speak
Just wished he didn’t cheat
Some part wished he’d come to pull her strings
Instead he’s collecting more things to bring
With a whiff of warm peppermint steam
A memory of different dreams
hopeful times and wishful things
When he cleared his throat, it was as if a bomb
Silenced the very chirps of birds
No more songs through windows. reflective calm
The last thing meant for now – words
She just said “don’t”
Which meant, let’s just accept
With that his boots shuffled, windswept.
Weighted down. as silence crept.
He looked at her back, her tense shoulders.
Wishing she’d never grown so far away
Blaming her for his whole, a place to fill
Another place to need to stay
That last few feet between them
Linoleum. Dirty kitchen sink. A cup of tea.