Holes

There are holes in your ceiling

I found them while lying on my back

In your bedroom floor

As you stood outside the door

Whispering half truths and passive affirmations

To your parents

Through the cell phone cradled in the space

Between your jaw and your shoulder

Half wrapped in your curly hair

As my fingers had been moments before

-

I found myself watching your lips

Waiting for them to form simple words like

"Friends"

Or

"Lovers"

For questions that I had not yet

Known what answers I desired

But you sat close to me

And said pretty things about the tragedy

You so adored

And for the first time in 

More years than I had known sadness

I caught a glimpse of a future

In which I was not shamed for loving

The beauty of tragedy 

But

Kissed softly through tears

-

I did not grab your hand

I did not kiss your cheek

I did not whisper three words softly into your ear

But I laid on your bedroom floor

Clutching at thin air and my stray thoughts

And noticing

The holes in your ceiling