A Perfect ‘V’

If I wanted to be loved I would’ve said something. I would’ve brought it up at dinner. You would’ve known. There would’ve been strategically placed indicators. Now everything is tangled. Wet. Sticky with emotion and damp with, what is that? Desire? Ugh. Can we just not? Just do everything but, you know? It’s not unreasonable. I used to watch you watch me and I never assumed. It’s kind of embarrassing for me. And you, obviously. More so for you.

That’s why I brought you here today. To the gorge. This expanse is a metaphor. For something––not sure if it’s related to our situation, but it’s profound. Look around. See the birds? The shapes they form, carving the sky with a  synchronized instinct. That’s also profound. How do they know how to do that? Yeah, shrug your shoulders. I don’t know either, they just do it. I thought we were operating with that, too. Synchronized instinct. Then you went and pulled this. Love. We were flying in a perfect ‘V’ and then you took a hard left and drove your beak right into my side. Sure, we both want to go different directions, but now neither of us can fly.