In the middle of the night
when I wake up
weighed down by shame,
I must remind her
how she knows nothing of my heart.
This heavy heart,
which never needs to hear
the how to understand.
I have always known the why.
Always known the when,
when I choose to choose against her.
Feeling the tightening of ropes
to guide my internal sail.
I steer myself instead,
consistently into storms.
I knew then,
as I know now,
that he should not stay the night.
I knew to turn my car around.
Block his number.
Call anyone else
more often,
reach those
who were still capable of
And yet..
I drove there,
where the only leaving I did
was from myself.
I floated straight out of my sail boat.
I didn’t want to feel the ropes tighten.
I didn’t want to lose sleep,
the way I did
and still do.
I didn’t want to feel my body
or his.
I only wanted to feel as if
I could alter them both.
Switch their courses,
even momentarily.
Of course I needed
this world and that man
to be anything but
this world
that man.
I wanted desperately
to believe in the lie.
That it is not fault.
That it is not resignation.
That it is not full of poor intent
or guilt,
as this shame would make it seem.
I have learned there is little difference
in truth and lie
when your guide is sleepless.
I remind her
when she wakes me with worry.
This heart,
as I once thought all did,
merely believed that all hearts
beat quicker in storms.
When she hears this,
she lays back down.
She closes her eyes.
Sighs a deep breath of
and waits
until she or I
or wake