When you are cranky, is it a soft crawl into open arms?
When you are angry, is it a hurtled sob? Or is it something else — something else entirely.
When you are angry, do you come to bed? Do you come to bed, but with your back turned? Do you keep it turned all night? All night and into the morning?
Tell me what does it take for you to roll over, reach an arm over.
When you are angry, how do you fight? (This is important.) Are you loud, when you fight? Are you mean? Are you out of line? (A lot or a little.) Are you impossible? Are you stubborn. And can you admit it, when you are? When you are all of those things and then some: can you look at me?
And when you are all done, when you want your love again, what do you do? What do you do then? This matters more. This matters most, maybe.
When you are lost, do you ask for directions? (I feel like my mother would like me to ask this.)
When you are homesick, what are you homesick for. Can you put it into words? Can you take me there? Show me where?
When you are sad, can you sit with it? Can you sit with it cross-legged on a bed, all legs and long feet? Can you sit with it on my side of the booth, all shoulders and arms and hands?
When you are stressed, can you shut it off? Can you teach me how.
When you are serious, do you chew your bottom lip? When you are serious…how long ‘til you’re playful again.
When you aren’t doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing, what are you doing?
When you are without hope, what do you hope for anyway?
When you are hungry, what do you crave? What does it taste like? What does it taste just like. Who made it for you? Who made it for you, the first time.
When you are tired, what time is it? Is it early or is it late.
When you are discouraged, what gives you courage? Abstract okay.
And when you are hurt, when I have hurt you, do you come right out and say so? Or do you hurt me back — because that’s better.
And when I put words in your mouth, do you call me on it? And when it gets tricky, when it gets hard, do we hurt each other? Deliberately, I mean. Do we hurt each other deliberately?
I would like to think that we don’t. That we wouldn’t, that we won’t. Not us — the two of us. I would like to think that we will know better, even though we will make the occasional [erroneous] bounce between tenses and get our memories a little mixed up.
I would like to think that we wouldn’t hurt each other just because we were sure we could. Or because we weren’t so sure, all of a sudden.