The wooden table’s wrinkles wedged a path from my hands to yours.
Physical attachment was easy for us.
But those words were the pill that got caught someone where in the throat and once it passed, You forgot you had taken it.
You took a sip, I took a sip, we looked to each other.
Eye contact was basic.
But emotions plastered themselves to our vocal chords to way down our light-hearted tone.
No CPR could have launched the words I wanted to say to you from my heart to the room.
You got up to leave, your drink still half empty on the table.
As I watched you disappear out of the boundaries of my vision, I watched our drinks,
Playfully mingle and collide and mix into the sink.
But with the words stuck in one glass, one throat, one mind,
The only way for the water to go was down the drain.