Sky

The first time I call you sweetheart, it is light, flirtatious.
A throwaway line.
You are silent.
You think it is me trying to finesse a man
into letting me have my way.
Or me trying to convince a man
not to feel taken in
for letting me have my way.
And you are right.
Of course I don’t tell you that, but you are right.
Partly.

(But I really do think you are sweet.)

You do not want to be called sweetheart.
Did you let someone have her way once too often?
Forgive me. I was just getting warmed up.

What exactly did you want me to say?
That your voice drips over me like melted chocolate?
That the sky is like when I ask you to marry me?

I would.
But I’d need to be very, very drunk.

“Melted chocolate?”
Oh, it shocked me, too.
Try on “sweetheart” while you’re at it.

Or “I’m such the fucking man!”
Compared to what you didn't say, it would be much closer to reality.
So I'm okay with that. For now.