There was a certain calmness within the water.
The shadowy pool was helping him mask his secret,
water engulfing the energy lurking beneath the atmosphere,
beneath the falling apart,
because it’s hard to fall apart in water—
the waves just absorb the tears.
She waits. She swims, hugging a floatie,
an inflatable strawberry sprinkled donut
holding up the mound of heavy flesh begging to fall past the dry,
to let the waves overcome her soon-to-be tears.
He knows she’s been thinking of him—a different him—
wondering where he’s been, who he’s been,
what he’ll become to her in a few moments.
They were laughing just minutes ago,
her spinning within the donut, him clinging onto the pizza for support,
the slice keeping him above the water
that wouldn’t allow the secret to spin past his lips
into her hair, her ears, her mouth, her tears for the next year,
begging to drown her in these waves that are now home to blue misery.
He wishes she could read his mind,
that it didn’t have to be this way:
he had already discussed her reaction
with everyone but her face.
He had pried for her thoughts on the cheater
a few waves ago, trying to predict
how the lines on her skin would tug
into the perfect frown hugging her tears.
Like watching his favorite slaughter scene
on Halloween night,
he replayed the horror over and over again,
not expecting her reaction to be
exactly what it was:
She waited for the secret to consume her
alone in dry darkness,
for she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction,
or depress the strawberry sprinkled donut.