Darcy Fallon

The L Word

It’s a pretty, dirty word.

Don’t say it to me.

I never said it to you.

Desperation engraved

on your colorless face clashes

with the smug look on mine

Your blatant need smothers me.

The beseeching anticipation in your

eyes—

hopeful,

fervent—

your brow, rippled

with expectation.

I don’t care.

I’ll thwap you

on the nose like

an overeager dog—

panting, crawling,

craving my lap.

I’ll take my space.

I can never say that L word,

so I’ll use my favorite . . .

Leave.