Retreat

She’s got a pretty face and humor to cover up what she doesn’t want you to know.
It always starts the same with the curiosity
of how this creature has somehow fallen into your lap.
But behind her big eyes,
that bold laugh of hers,
the confidence she musters upon entering a crowded room
is a hidden life.
On Saturdays, she will tell you she is busy
when she is actually at her psychiatrist’s office.
On Sundays, she will ignore your brunch plans,
unwilling to give you the pleasure of her company.
She’s too tired to even raise her head off the pillow
let alone pretend everything is all right.
And soon,
you will notice the cracks,
little comments she makes
coupled with a look of boredom
like she’d race to the nearest exit if she could
when she’s calculating how soon you’ll figure it out.
And when you come on too strong,
she’ll find a way to push you far enough away
but still close enough where should her arms reach for you,
she’ll find your arms reaching back.

It will get old–this game of trying to guess
what once was an exciting mystery.
You will grow tired.
She will want you even more as you distance yourself.
And when you finally do decide to leave,
you have proven,
once again,
that every man she’s been with,
gives up just as she’s about to open up the floodgates.

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