The old us

Sitting on these leather seats,
Willing the car to hasten and the route to shrink.
When did the silences between us become so thick?
As if to suffocate us while we drive
Until all that is left is a singular thought,
Ricocheting between our two still bodies
Do you remember the old us?

Standing against the bar tabletop,
Willing the scotch to go down smoother than our last words.
When did the drinks we share become so bitter?
As if to mimic the conversations we now have
Like hard spirits that burn to swallow,
But also make it easier to let go
Do you remember the old us?

Reaching for the shelf of breakfast bowls,
Willing one to topple and fall into a waiting hand.
When did requesting assistance become so arduous?
As if honeyed oats that once sweetened our mornings
Can no longer remedy our now tasteless routines,
Of retracing steps from too many yesterdays
Do you remember the old us?

Eating in the same dining room,
Willing our phones to vibrate and provide some escape.
When did our home of two begin to feel so crowded?
As if our limbs are connected to the same string
So that we become caught in invisible tangles,
Leaving us stationary and stranded together
Do you remember the old us?

Turning the volume dial of our speakers,
Willing the music that bleeds out to erase our solitude.
When did choosing each other begin to feel so wrong?
As if enough time spent denying each other’s presence
Can replace our shared need for closure,
And return us to the people we used to be
Do you remember the old us?