Over dinner he asks, who will leave first?
He’s joking but my heart still drops a bit.
It’ll be you, he continues, I’ve got nothing
better lined up. I smile, laugh, sip my wine –
all too aware of my wandering eyes, my fickle heart.
I could fall in love a million times a day
but I keep coming home to him, keep crushing
the crushes, keep shoving hands in pockets
to keep from pulling another close.
Written by Courtney LeBlanc.
Courtney LeBlanc is the author of chapbooks Siamese Sisters and All in the Family (Bottlecap Press) and she is an MFA candidate at Queens University of Charlotte. Her poetry is published or forthcoming in Public Pool, Rising Phoenix Review, The Legendary, Germ Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Brain Mill Press, and others. She loves nail polish, wine, and tattoos. Read her blog at Word Perv, follow her on Twitter, or find her on Facebook.
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