I was drinking before you called me.

I figured a cider with dinner would hit the spot.               

              A coworker and I were frustrated with each other.               

              You and I had stayed up way too late the night before.

I was irritable.

 

I picked the tv show we watched, but still almost fell asleep.

I finished another drink and was glad we hadn’t picked a movie.

               My eyelids kept drooping, so I stared at you instead.

               It helped and I readjusted my positioning in the frame, so you’d have a nice view too.

I was basking in your presence.

 

I let you pick a Ted Talk after, Betsy Hoover on community organizing, then,

I picked Brené Brown, on storytelling and vulnerability and emotions.

               Did you hear what I was trying to tell you?

               No accident that she was talking about people who wear their hearts on their sleeves.

I was delegating.

 

I pressed you on how that had made you feel.

 

We started talking about things we shouldn’t, I knew I should stop, but, 

 

               My big mouth, it ran and ran, confessing exactly what I thought about your ex.

 

               There was a chance to stop but you kept it going too, better out than in you said.

 

I was venting, hurting, tearing down.

 

I finally ended the call, said our goodbyes, turned around in the dark and knew.

I had said too much, been too honest, too careless with what you were feeling.

               In the dark, I couldn’t sleep.

               Tossing and turning, scared of losing you, in prayer I drifted off.

I was scared.

 

I woke up and knew I had to run, the storm in my head and heart would overwhelm me.

I went out for hours, the heat wave making even the early run an ordeal.

               Sweat poured down my face, drenched my shirt.

                Hungover and hot, my head ached, but not more than my heart.

I was running to absolution.  

 

I reached out to you, apologized for overstepping.

You confirmed that I had and that another conversation was sitting wrong with you.

               Where else had I mis-stepped?

               Why hadn’t I pulled back?

I was spiraling.

 

I waited for you to reach out, to talk, to let me know what you were thinking.

I was singing rancheras, power ballads, of heartbreak and longing, while I cooked.

               Who had hurt you?

               It was me, young and careless, I had cast the boy I loved aside.

I was cursing my younger self.

 

You finally reached out, asked if I was done with work.

I wrapped up a report and started the video call.

               Apologies were issued, boundaries were established, our queerness acknowledged,

              But, you said that you still wanted me in your life, I said that was enough and it was. 

I was relieved, but,

 

I kept this to myself, I didn’t want you to feel pressured into a relationship.

I wished again, and again, and again, that I hadn’t hurt you.

               In some other spacetime, we’d be married already, following the traditions before us.

               In this one, I had taken liberties, you were now taking some too. Still,

I remained in love.