Temporary

Leave the heels by the door.

Don't make this prettier

than it is.

We both know why you're here.

Phone face down on my nightstand.

Mine's been silent since you walked in.

You don't ask why I haven't slept.

I don't ask who you've been stalking.

Fair trade.

You still wear the perfume

he used to tell you he loved.

I still keep one of her pictures

in a folder I don't open enough

to delete it.

That's us.

Half honest.

Fully aware.

Two people taking off clothes

because taking off history's harder.

You say my name.

I hear somebody else's.

I pull you closer anyway.

You close your eyes

right before you kiss me.

I don't ask

who you're seeing in my place.

And that's probably

the most honest thing we do.

We don't call it healing.

We don't call it love.

We're just borrowing each other

until missing them

doesn't hurt as much.

Temporary.

That's all you are to me.

That's all I am to you.

You kiss me

trying to forget him.

I hold you

trying not to think of her too.

Temporary.

No future to pretend.

No "what are we?"

No making plans.

Just two people

using something that feels good

to avoid feeling

what still hurts.

Temporary.

That's why it works.

And that's fucked up.

But it's honest.

You know which drawer your shirt is in.

That's already getting dangerous.

You left a toothbrush here last week.

I threw it out.

Then felt ridiculous.

Because temporary gets blurry

when the coffee starts happening.

When you stay till noon.

When "you up?" turns into

"how'd that meeting go?"

That's where this shit gets complicated.

We were supposed to be anesthesia.

No names for the feeling.

No reaching across the bed

when one of us starts dreaming.

No getting jealous.

No checking.

No asking where somebody went.

But humans suck at keeping bodies separate

from whatever the hell attachment is.

So tonight,

don't promise me anything.

Don't ask if I'll miss you.

Just leave before breakfast

while we can still call this

what we agreed to.

Because temporary only works

while nobody starts hoping.

And lately...

you've been staying

after the morning.

Temporary.

That's all you are to me.

That's all I am to you.

You kiss me

trying to forget him.

I hold you

trying not to think of her too.

Temporary.

No future to pretend.

No "what are we?"

No making plans.

Just two people

using something that feels good

to avoid feeling

what still hurts.

Temporary.

That's why it works.

Worst part?

I like you.

Not enough to call this forever.

Enough to know

this is gonna hurt differently

when one of us finally gets better.

Because eventually...

somebody stops using the other person

to forget.

And the one who's still bleeding

gets left twice.

Temporary.

Yeah, that's what we said.

So don't leave your heart here

with your clothes beside my bed.

You came here

trying to forget him.

I let you in

trying to forget her too.

Temporary.

Maybe that's the lie.

Not that this is love.

That neither one of us

is starting to care.

Leave before breakfast.

Before temporary...

needs another name.