Like a glass of water held by an uncertain hand

Like a glass of water held by an uncertain hand
you contained it

that evening as we walked
along the lake and then among the giants
you were quieter.

Your gait was heavy with- perhaps regret, or
exhaustion from the labor of decision

I heard only the sounds of waves,
the pulse of the city, and the language
of your body muttering to itself,

"I must. I will."

When we sat under the terribly cheerful
white fluorescent light,
Hands folded on an inappropriately
bright orange table

you finally revealed it
with a strength I had felt each time
you'd touched me.

I held on to the all the details
in those sad moments;

Black coffee in a cup
Your hand on a napkin, and outside,
Through the windows, darkness.