As we walked along Lake Michigan, the line
that whispered over and over in my head
like a wicked mantra was
"You affect me, infect me. (I may never recover)."

I want to know why you cried
that night in your room,
lying beside me in your bed
when I was too afraid to look you in the eye
so you turned off the light
to give me the courage.

What storm raged in your chest?
What aching plagued you that you would not voice?

Our relationship is laden with the almosts of unfinished business.
I lay this close to you, this close,
so close that my whole body is tuned in and listening.
Why have I come 1400 miles
not to touch you?
Why have you invited me
into this facade of a relationship, this granite silence?
Why do you never have anything to say,
yet you keep coming back,
always wanting me around?

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