We shot off bottle rockets in your drive way,
And watched Forrest Gump together –
Five inches between us on the living room couch.
You baked me muffins, speckled with blueberries from your garden,
And you paced my 200 repeats, even though you hate to run.
You pulled me in.
You kissed me.
You waited for me to kiss you back.
You waited for me to finish reading 1984,
And to take you to my favorite Thai restaurant downtown.
For half a year, our fingers interlaced,
And I felt I could curl up inside your goodnight text.
Now, your “love” sounds hollow,
I could never look you in the eyes and repeat
that unfathomable word back –
It rattles so, with its emptiness.
The question is, is the word worth our time to fill it?
Or should we float our empty bottles down the river?
Float them to the Ocean, to be shattered on the rocky east coast shores?
Let the shards be run over with the aching push-and-pull of the tide,
scraped over with sand until they’re polished into smooth sea-glass.
Must I, Sit across, From you,
Faced with this blankness in your eyes?
I ask if we’re done,
If I can go now;
And for the last time, you tell me ‘Goodnight.’