undertow
i should walk away.
i know that.
i rehearse it,
mouth the words
like a prayer i don’t believe in.
but you’re standing there,
and it’s already too late.
she trusts me.
he trusts you.
we are the knives
in their backs,
still warm with guilt.
you smile
and my ribs crack open
like old doors in a storm.
i don’t want this.
but i do.
i wish wanting you
felt more like drowning
and less like breathing.
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