because you know

it would be better if i could take my thumb
and wipe away those dark crescents beneath
your eyes, but i'm not a painter, and i'm
not God, and i'm not the sleep you're losing
over her, and anyway she's standing at the register
with cash in her hand like i'm about to have
quarters for eyes. i can't take your look
but i'll take the coffee i haven't ordered yet but
that you have in your hand
because you know.

my face says more than my choked throat does,
is that any surprise? or are we fooling ourselves
when we talk, like it means more than the wordlessness
that passes between us when you pass back
your lit menthol and we're singing all the same songs?
it's like the times we throw down on the floor
with the haze and hot breath. i give you goosebumps
and you laugh, say i can't do that,
not even when you ask sweetly
because we know.

he shows up when the cup is empty and tells me
you're not very cute, that you have nothing to hold onto
and nice noses don't do that. he's trying to help
in his backwards way to stop my train from derailing.
he doesn't know it makes it worse, that my arms
are heavy from not holding, that i would take
my brazen fists to his face for your honor,

because i know.