PADM #7: Once

Once,
When will you be leaving? She asked as we stood on her stoop.
I sighed and scratched at an imagined itch as if to delay my
departure for one more moment before turning to look into her
eyes, replying: Sometime today.
Are you coming back? She asked me this several times.
I was packing my suitcase, sorting the socks and underwear,
avoiding the lie that threatened to escape my lips
Instead I choose to hug her thereby admitting
my guilt in emotional answer.
Do you love me? She asked as I walked with her to the train
What kind of question is that? I shot back then regretted
it instantly as we both knew it was yes, the strategy of pain
I am coming back I said to her there at the door, but I never
did, didn't even know why, her tears on my shirt, the
melancholic moments of her hurt, I am still not sure
what was worse, that I still loved her even when
I stood on the grass watching the hearse take away
all that I thought I had loved into the morning light
as I remembered her last words: Stay with me.
Once.