He waves down the waitress and orders a third bottle of wine and turns his attention to me
"why do you say I'm broken?"
I drunkenly pick non existent lint off my shoulder "because 10 years of you makes me a fucking expert on the subject of broken men"
I feel my face get warm and I look down at my shoes.He watches me slam back another glass of wine and takes my hand. The gesture touched me, we never held hands in all those years.. I guess when you spend so much time trying to hold up masks it's hard to hold anything else.
And then the levy broke. We both said a lot of things that had to be said. I want him to be okay and to feel love in a way that I now know is possible. I want him to love with no ego. We never did figure that part out. We wandered from the bar to a park near my place and talked as drunken friends do, the morning was going to break and he crashed on my couch and I crawled into bed with my husband. The next day I cried after sex with my husband... It was wonderful, for the first time it was really just two of us in the room. No ghosts.
This love has dried up and stayed behind
And if I stay I’ll be a lie then choke on words I’d always hide. Excuse me first love but we’re through