Lying in my arms,
the noise of the bars
our laughter
now distant,
she says
I don't think so.

She takes care with her words,
gentle,
kind,
knowing all the pain that can so easily flow between us.

I care about you,
she says.
But she knows that I love her.
I want to play casual,
like usual,
but that won't cut it.
Not this time.

I'm protecting myself, as much as you,
she says,
and I consider for a moment
that perhaps she has fallen too.
But in not knowing,
I have to face the harder truth
that she is simply here for company
and kindness,
and I am being a fool.

After all this, I say, come for dinner,
and she agrees.
I consider for a moment
that perhaps her willingness is a sign
that she will come to me in time.
But in not knowing,
I have to face the harder truth,
that the very night before
she may be lying in another bed,
for company and kindness,
and perhaps,
for so much more.

Lying in my arms,
my true intent exposed,
her words clear and certain,
but always in the shadow of her fear,
and my hope,
I ask
Can we ever be together?

I don't think so.