Photo by Tracy Fuentes
“It’s happening again. / How did it end? / I can’t pretend like I understand. / How did it end?”
-Taylor Swift, “How Did It End?”
I ring your doorbell,
excited to spend the night with you.
You open the door,
and I give you a kiss hello—
quick, more routine than passionate,
the kind of kiss you give someone
when you’ve already had many
and assume there will be many more.
I come in, take off my shoes,
put down my purse, and settle into
my seat at your kitchen table.
I watch you with love in my eyes
as you make us Zuppa Toscana for dinner.
An ex taught you the recipe,
like I taught you my Philly Cheesesteak recipe
just last week.
We make small talk,
and you seem distant.
I chalk it up to you being busy cooking.
I eat the soup quickly
once you put it on the table.
It’s delicious
and I should probably slow down
so that I can savor it more,
but I’m starving
and I’m sure we’ll make it
plenty of more times in the future.
As we eat, we make more small talk,
and you still seem distant.
I chalk it up to you being busy eating.
I smile at you across the table
after finishing my meal.
The bowl is empty now,
but my heart is still full
and unbroken.
Kindergarten 