Paranoia sets in
From the heavy weeks of self-medication
He rests his eyes on his
Leather jacket and looks up at me
extends a hand but can’t quite say
-I’m sorry-
The words tumble out
The cost is high in side-effects
He sinks into a chair 
and puts his head between his legs.
My world is spinning in the 
space between his dreams
Entre le realite

He falls asleep talking
sprawled out across the table like a cat
His hair – just a little too long- 
sinks low across his eyes.
I pretend like I don’t notice the 
dark purple circles that hang there
like pollution around a clear city.
I give him back his chains and 
I slip out the front door. 

Morning comes
-I missed his phone call-
It’s always strange how the two of us
miss each other by a heartbeat. 
I take a shower and try to forget
How warm and sad and vulnerable
he was last night. 

I go to work and pretend
Laughing and joking
the magnetic pull is not dragging me 
subconsciously toward him.
It doesn’t have to
I am already there.

His black bike sits in the corner 
The wheel still blown out
and he walks out to meet me 
on his front porch.
It’s as if we both know
better than to say hello.
I give him back his book
and he looks away into the distance.
‘I never thought things would be the same’
‘I never thought they would be so different.’
Sharp electric eyes lock into my soul. 
‘I never finished the last chapter of it.’
I say pointing to the book. 
Relief spills accidentally off the counter
as I help him carry his chains
back inside.