New Hampshire Suite IV

IV.

By the third night of our stay, I had grown

Entirely restless, feeling trapped in a room with

An over abundance of your love –your every word

Of endearment, as if, a toxic sting boring into my ears,

Every I Love You, a needle’s painful prick. The trigger,

Unknown, I felt in my bones, a depressive ideation; my eyes,

Shaky, under a translucent lid of tears.

You knew something was wrong, when

My every response to your questions became

Pithy, nearly monosyllabic –a majority, No, coupled

With an occasional Maybe –and you asked me

In your polite demeanor, Can I do anything to help you?

I hadn’t hesitated then, to say, Yes you can.

You can take me back home to New York, as

Soon as your schedule will allow.

I have missed it. Terribly.