Murkier

“Do you not find it awkward that gravity is keeping us where we don’t want to be?”

“Maybe,” she said.

The coffee was murkier than usual.
I centered my cup on the placemat
fixed my hand into a Y
and drew a decorated dragon on the table with my fingertip.
Our eyes couldn’t bear to look at each other.

“This is not my idea of love,” I refuted.

She pushed her coffee away and tucked her head down crying.
A spoon was clenched firmly in the fist she used to cover her eyes.
I couldn’t console her.
Magnets don’t apologize for not attracting.
Besides, I’m weak enough to kiss her if she would put the spoon down.
It shined every time the tears jerked her around
like an oversized saber sharp enough to keep me at bay.
She’ll never put the spoon down.