the assassin.

you awoke, distant despite being inches away

my right thigh radiating heat

while your left deflected it

there was no good morning
how did you sleep?  

the distance between us only magnified

when the sun was the only thing that greeted me that morning

by twilight, the sky dimmed and so did our story
our story that we thought had been inscribed on just a few pages
our story that had a twist and turn of events 
that continued to be the pen on page, writing more

but even the city lights shining and glowing and radiating out to us
while we stood atop that mountain
couldn't make the darkness go away
from the crater of black i knew we were carrying

that night, the table lamp next to the bed shone on the truth
whether i wanted to see it or not.
and so i turned it off, literal darkness now meeting the figurative. 

are you uncomfortable with me here? you asked
no i lied and held back the tears that were starting to heave from my chest
thank god you couldn't see me or you would have called my bluff

by morning, before alarms and stirrings and yawns and stretches,
you were ready to go
bags packed and waiting by the door
shoes on
teeth brushed

words hadn't been spoken since the lie i told in the dark
and still no words came
but i pulled you to me, and you responded, and i felt you squeeze
but i know better now what that actually meant 

do you really want to be an assassin? i'd asked the night before
yes, you said, without hesitation. it has the best working conditions.

and that's when the gulf grew so wide that i was certain i'd drown,
if i haven't already

i never really knew you
and even though there was no payment
no retribution
no formal request

you killed me anyway.

again.