You’re Going To Be a Father

You’re going to be a father. For two days it’s all I know. I guess that it should matter — it does. It seals the lock on the glass door that separates our lives. I guess it’s better when I know you can never step outside. Something has closed forever for us — here. I feel the hurt and I feel strangely calm for it is far from clear that life is our eternity
Perhaps we had too much long ago Perhaps too long we failed to know each other Perhaps to reach each other we need space and love, and life, and children with another
You are to be a father. I see you through cigarette smoke through unexpected kisses through unanswered texts through sudden invitations through I love you when you didn’t through refusing to meet my gaze through sidelong glances across myriad rooms through rum that drowns all memories through them telling me you’re looking through us dancing to chan chan through you saying I don’t know you through my knowing you’re no good through nights and days of pointless tears and countless years.
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