Tomorrow

I am sorry.

I love you.

Now

 I am gathering

my strength.

Whatever,

I say,

Whatever you want.

Whatever, you say.

The day is dead

like that tree outside.

Branches sawed off,
prepared

awaiting its final execution.

Its sap, congealed,

 like the words in my throat.

To the back of your head

I say,

Can we talk…

finish this.

Whatever... talk.

Outside, a dog barks.

Then silence.

when the day is fresh,

when time has passed,

when our actions over-take our words,

when you open your eyes... tomorrow.

Tomorrow,

I say,
we can talk tomorrow.