When you showed up at my door frantic that I’d left work
behind — teeth-clenched hours spent hashing out why it should end
making promises to remain colleagues and friends
but nothing more,
we sealed our pledge with a final searing kiss.
Yet as I pulled away,
your lips whispered a resignation against my forehead,
“Still… you give me chills.”
I stared into my lap mumbling apologies,
but your calloused hand
lifted my chin to stare into creek-blue eyes
and reassured me
those chills meant you were still alive.
Nevertheless an afternoon spent on good intentions,
I knew we were far from over.