A Quarter Past

It’s a quarter past
two sips of coffee
and her first thought is:
“Is it 5 yet???”

Friday mornings tend to
do that to you
when sitting on the cusp
of a potentially
exhilarating weekend.

She has a crush
dressed as Friday nights,
a lust
permed into Saturday’s
and offers the morning after
memories to pore over
for a millennium.

wanting to ask in words
what my facial expression
must’ve voiced instead she answers:
“Don’t be such a worry wort.
I’ll be back in the morning and
you’ll be asleep as always.”

If she only knew
that I only pretend to be
to avoid the arguments
poised to launch
off the scent of drinks
and foreign cologne she reeks of.

If she only knew,
I clench the covers
not because of the cold
that I’ve long stopped feeling
but to relish the warmth
she once provided
before these nights divided us.

So I reply,
“What’s the rush?
I’ve been told that
you only live once
and by God
if that’s the truth,
I’d like to spend
every waking moment
with you
til dawn do us part.”

It’s crazy
how your name for me conjugates
after every ship we board
for instance:
on Friendship
I was just a “brother” to you,
a bud, a pal
skillfully navigating
through “Friend Zone Abyss”
congested with high fives,
awkward hugs,
and greetings to friends
you’d pretend to forget my name to,
then offer patchwork phrases
in place of amends like:
“My bad back there.
You know I didn’t really
forget your name, right?”
I chuckled,
nodded in agreement
to forget who I was as well
and all was swell again.

For instance,
upon the Relationship
I was once
promoted to best friends,
your love,
your man,
your fiance I am today
but the person you’ve paved me into
only seems to service
the tires of excuses you tread over me
to believe we’re heading down
incompatible directions,
but the only misconception
I’ve perceived in the road
is the fork in your tongue.

So answer me this:
Do you still love me?
Between the smeared lipstick
and your anonymous text messages,
I’d say you’re half past forgiveness,
two sips to deuces and
is it 5 yet?
Because my patience
is just as impatient
to clock out…