La Grotta was flawless—
    impeccable service,
     authentic Italian,
        perfect plates, (maybe too much truffle)
        the kind of experience you never forget.

But after—
    Irby’s for a moment,
    then back to the BNB,

    the air gained *weight*.

Conversations turned hard,
              my timing worse—
     advances you didn’t want, (so, so wrong)
     words you didn’t believe. (I do, I really do)

I admitted my fibs, (really thought you already knew)
  the ones meant to protect your freedom,
    the ones I thought could be forgiven,
           to shield you from obligation—

                   not to hide the truth,
                   but to give you space.

Still, it landed wrong.

You left in tears,
    and minutes later…
    mine were flowing.

    That’s not a thing I do, Mari, (never)
           but I couldn’t stop 'em.

This morning,
     apologies given,
     words exchanged,
          connection—
  fragile but intact.

La Grotta was perfect.

The truth was harder.

We’ll see which lingers longer.

Both, I pray.