Concerning the Poem

  Kevin cringed the moment his lips stopped moving. He’d said too much, revealed more than he should have, and Ivy was just looking at him. He started a faltering apology, promise to never bring that up again, then stopped himself. He saw saline gathering at the corner of her eyes. He didn’t know quite what else to say, so much needed to be said. And like relaxing a muscle he let it flow.
  “I was here earlier,” he told her quietly. “The other waitress said you had traded days, so I left, but anyway.” He made the effort to look her in the eyes, but between the rivules cascading down her cheeks and the army of emotion he always battled when he looked at her, he had to focus on the untouched plate of beignets instead. “I. . . . I wanted to ask you to come with me. I needed to. . . . go away. And more than that, I need. . . . I need you.”
  “Kevin –“ was all she got out before he cut her off.
  “But I don’t feel I can do that now. Leave, I mean. Or ask you. I mean, I need to work this out. Because you mean this much to me. I want you to have more than I am.”