she broke down, crying, and pleaded, “don’t leave me,”
but i had no intention of leaving her, never felt closer
to anyone than in that one explosion of a moment,
vodka-soaked and ignited by mutual insecurity.

later, she left me, and i pleaded plenty: arguments
stumbling and sprawling in an unconvincing tangle.
i blame her, sometimes, but at my most rational,
i remember that i never felt secure;

“to live afraid of loss is to prepare to lose,” i could
recite every morning to the ceiling, but still mollify
and coddle and stumble. to my credit, i did not hedge
bets; i was invested like the chicken and committed

like the pig to breakfast to the vision of a grander
future. i never felt closer to anyone than to her
in that prolonged explosion of a moment, and i never
felt closer to loss screamed every frenetic instinct,

and now my pleas for proximity rebound off cold cavern
walls and sound so familiar, i imagine. “don’t leave me,”
taunts not-her voice, and i won’t, Love. “where are you?”
echoes everywhere, so i will wait here.