From this lakeside mansion living room,
I saw more than I wanted to see.
I pictured Alicia and me ending
as I sipped warm coffee
and leaned against the leather sofa.
The all-too-typical breeze filtered
through a maple tree’s branches,
shaking gold and red leaves
among the swathes across tufts
of dead grass that poked through.
The dappled day’s rays
made the most of the warmth,
casting shadows
behind fluffy clouds.
I stared at the blue lake.
I trailed the length of the lake,
wondering what it would take
to push me over the edge.
I’ve never been a liar,
and I won’t fall for the fear
of falling apart at the seams.
I broke a promise.
I told Alicia
that I’d stay.
But promises rang
like a sour taste when a gunshot
ranging hollow.
I fumbled the shell.
We left the evidence
accounted for by its very absence.
I put myself in a shallow grave
Alicia’d dug for me.
Brick by boring brick, Alicia
spoke of us in the present tense.
My fault was her flaw.
I did nothing wrong.
I didn’t chance it again.
I blocked comments
and shut down a conversation
before they got started
just to tell them
of my unavailable status
before the appearance
of impropriety drowned
Alicia’s past regrets
of what started
changed the meaning
of my complete devotion
to every breath of her embrace.
If Alicia’s last breath waved
its hand to let you know,
I take it instead.
I’d trade places because
maple tree branches wave
over the rippling lake
and life, our lives,
mean more to me
than breathing.
“Honey,” Alicia said.
I twisted around.
Alicia’s clothes hit the floor.
And it wasn’t even February.
But with Alicia, Valentine’s Day
comes at least once a day.
We had sex on the living room carpet.
A blanket spread beneath, of course.
We sipped Redhook,
and promised we’d never leave.