she lies awake, or somewhere near it
a place where instant messages don't reach
plunging under now, no bottom below
just page after perfect, empty page

only the lonely stayed on to collect
or so he told her
but geography sealed her fate, long before birth
down on the Old Line Road

she's another man's wife, she told herself
with some colder, new perspective
it was instinct led them to the old, familiar cadence

not yesterday's cream-calm voice
but something rather more carnal
breathed soft, in a stage whisper

she could not tell where her own skin ended
and his began
a glimpse of what they once had been, together
and yet might be again

she waited for a shame that never came
instead, only a calm and certainty and need
as true as her own

they just suited each other

look long enough, and
if you're doing it right
you get to see

he was beautiful 
the beaten kind of beauty that cut her

yes, she could feel this
at least she could feel this

she's not going to look back if he doesn't

their eyes met in lover's communion
there is nothing but this, his eyes told hers
no other time, nor place, nor being

take what you want.  no consequences.
I promise.

what desperate liars love makes of us all.

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