Act: Infinity

Act: Infinity

The scene always opens the same, my dear
it's usually around 3 in the morning and i'm opening the door
just as you're putting your phone away with a puzzled look on your face
as if you honestly didn't think that i'd be here
even though we've been talking about it for the past hour
maybe it's raining, maybe it's cold...or maybe it's a nice warm summer night
i'll leave the door open for you and you'll close it as you walk in
i'll start the coffeepot because while you always deny the first two cups
i know you'll finish the rest
and you'll sit down at the kitchen table and...just...sit...
possibly dazed, very sad, more than likely angry, confused, tired and bitter
sit in silence while the coffee percolates, echoing your thought processes
i'll take out your favorite mug along with mine
break out the rest of the essentials
i'll pour that first cup, probably the second for myself
while you gather yourself together
and i'll just wait until the story spills out from you
the names constantly change but this...this is always the same
she's broken your heart again, whoever she is...this time around
and you'll tell me all about it
and i'll just listen while i prepare the third cup for you
bring it to you while you vent
while you cry
while you contemplate everything you've done wrong
even if it's nothing

i know dear, i know
how you looked so good together
how she made you laugh
how she could bring you to your knees with that one look
how you thought she might have been the one
(just like all the others)
and how she threw you away
or cheated on you
or decided that whatever you had wasn't worth the while
because you're back in my kitchen
trying to drown your tears in coffee
but see, i'll make you laugh and say things like
"well, at least she wasn't crazy like that redhead
or clingy like the blonde"
or maybe i'll remind you about the others in your history
who were painful when they happened,
but now are funny memories
like that silly punk girl who drove you wild in both good and bad ways
or the photographer who still has all of those pictures
or the wannabe-psychologist who was crazier than anyone you've ever been with...

but we both know why you're here.

there's about a half a cup left in the pot and it's still pretty dark
and i was half-asleep anyway when you called...
so while you adamantly claim the couch
i'll smile as i rinse out the pot, our mugs;
throw away the grinds and leave it set for tomorrow
i know us, this is the usual routine
your mouth says all the words because you think that's what needs to be said
but after all these years, you should know better
i'm going back to bed and you'll follow
turning out all the lights in your wake
you'll slide in underneath the covers
and we'll settle in for the night
i'll hold you and comfort you
and you'll say stupid things like,
"you're such a good friend, thank you for caring"
and i'll just laugh and say
"oh whatever, how long have we known each other?"
and you'll cuddle with me because i'm comfortable
and i'll hold you close, dear
stroke your hair
kiss away all those tears that threaten to fall again
and hold my vigil until your breathing eases
and the grey of dawn lightens the room.

and by the time i awaken
you will be gone, half a pot of coffee gone cold
your favorite mug rinsed out and lying sideways in the sink...
and i will try to remember the litany of things she had said and done
all the good
all the bad
because, next time, when you come home
she will just be another good memory
in the face of more recent heartbreak
and i'll use her as an example
just like all the others

and you and i...

well.

it doesn't matter.
there is no us, really.

you're blind to me and what i'm capable of
or maybe you never stopped to consider
that maybe i hate having to remember all of this
maybe i hate seeing you broken
to be the one that picks up all your pieces
but i guess
being the friend you run to,
being this safe haven
is better than nothing.