Reticence

‘tap, tap, tap’ your petite knuckles gently attacking my door - I envision their French-painted nails dancing in the shine of the hallway light like a row of bishops bowing to the Pope (your sensual sacrilege) I don’t make a sound though my eye is to the peephole - watching you for signs of obvious despair … or … SOMEthing … anything … a rill of tears amassing on my chin and echoing your knock with a near-silent ‘drip, drip, drip’ on the floor … you … a bit louder - ‘rap, rap, rap’ I’m a statue … “Come on, Babe … it’s Me-ee!”, you declare ending with that sing-songy tag of your favorite personal pronoun (that I’ve finally had too much of) I roll my eyes for my own sake still watching through the peeper as you fidget and toss your platinum extensions your face, dry as a bone though we both know our time has come … briny beads still leaving my chin and plopping to the hardwood in mocking rhythm … ‘drip, drip, drip’ your last try, with force - ‘bang, bang, bang!’ I don’t move an ounce of muscle or marrow … knowing I’m there and have been you reach out and cover the peephole with your pretty little thumb “PLEASE, Babe, just a goodbye kiss?” ahhh - and there’s the rub - we BOTH know where that little parting gift would lead … to FAR more than just one - far more than only a kiss - and far more torturous a farewell than either of us can deal with successfully … so … nope … no WAY as much as my entire being ACHES to feel your mouth pressing mine - your sugary tongue dancing on my lips - it’s the one thing that would ensure more pain for us both and I MUST not relent … you remove your thumb purposefully framing your face under the hall light so I can see your now weep-soaked cheeks … the ceiling lamp directly behind your head gives the distinct impression of an angel with halo a-glow and you stand there silently for what seems an hour (though I know it’s but a moment) tears and mascara turning your face to a sad, desperate clown … you reach up to knock one last time but stop your hand an inch away from my door pull it back to your mouth and tenderly blow me a kiss … you wait one more moment for some sign from me but I am stone - silent, cold sending my last carefully careless message my own face now dry … finally … you walk away, slowly your head hung in sorrowful realization five-inch Blahniks clop-clopping down the long entryway hall sound fading tenderly … (like the passion we once knew) I wait … “I love you … so much” I say when you’re too distant to hear … ‘you’ve always been too distant to hear’, I think to myself and it brings a sad smile of irony … I reach into my pocket and pull a handkerchief out, kneeling wipe my tears from the polished wooden floor and toss it to the trash for they’re certainly NOT … worth keeping.