he’s never been in love
with you before
he’s never known
the way you curl your body to the wall
for comfort
rather than to the other body in the bed
he’s never seen your quiet
days of near silence
and barely audible insights
where he won’t hear your voice and you retreat
into your own world where he is not invited
he’s never seen your unmoving
crossed arms in the heat of an argument
and your one sided raised eyebrow
small tight mouth
unblinking coldness
he’s never been alone with your silence
dangling on a thread
a swinging pendulum
he’s never dealt with your poker playing emotions
kept shut tight
unless questioned out, bet against, the stakes raised
and you wonder if you should warn him
or if you won’t be like that with him.
Sharon Hesper 