Birds Gotta Fly

Scene 1: Anxious and urgent, nearly to the point of tears. You tell me that you've figured it out, that it's now or never. I thought you understood. But you don't. And you still don't when I tell you over and over again to take it easy and see me for what I really am to you, your closest friend, because that's something that's not worth losing. But you stay upset and your voice rises above the rest of the noise so everyone is looking at us and I'm missing what I came here to see.
And I want to hide. From the noise and from all of those wandering eyes and especially you. Finally you break. And you fall and you crawl to the ground and under the table, hidden from all of the eyes, and I wish you had stayed there.

Scene 2: Tossing and tugging and an almost violent smothering. Kissing me deeply so I choke on my words that you don't want me to say and I don't want you to hear. I come up for air but you pull me back down until we're sure that this is it, this is how we feel, and it's good. We fall asleep after they find us, giggling, searching for shelter. The sun peaks in on me in the morning but I don't roll over because I'm scared to face you in the light. The light that used to be so warming now just reminds me that I hardly know you at all. And I guess I don't want to, because I pull the sheet over my head and doze off again.

Scene 3: Standing on top of the world. Peering down at all the little people below us. Looking at you looking at me. The sun is shining on your face. You inhale, and so do I, with satisfied smirks and a comfortable silence. When we exhale, our smoke rises up above the houses and the trees and blends in with the wine-soaked sunset. Your fingers graze mine and you ask me if we should kiss and I say no, that it's better this way, and you know it, too. I like you the best.