during the flight to atlanta
I almost placed my hand
upon your knee
just like old times
and it hurt not to do so
this tiny gesture de amor enduring
a vestigial caress of reassurance
while my love for you
vibrated like a tuning fork
humming deep within me
one you have to raise
close to your ear
to hear its golden note
but it was still there
ringing in the whoosh of flight
and the patter of attendants
collecting snack trash
singing among the bloodied shards
of irreparable heartbreak
holding my tongue the same
as I’d restrained my hand

I instantly regretted
mistaking your sterile courtesy
as lingering affection
daring to let down my guard
to hazard casual conversation
but you didn’t miss a beat
in reminding me
there is no more