Yep,
maybe,
just not sure.

A shrug,
quick exit,
the sound of hurried footsteps,
the closing bedroom door.

I miss you already,
the moment that could have been,

had we actually reached
across the divide
to the other,

instead talked
of the persistent hum,
our backdrop,
figure and ground,

of blood, throbs,
the beat, our hearts,
sweet air, the glimpse
of the holy.

But instead,
we parted,
to remember on the staircase,
the things we should have said.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013