pauses cassondra cline I am trying to know you through the quiet pauses, through that look. A hand resting so slightly on my knee, You glance down to my upturned so expectant face, your eyes warm sad and something. Whole moments until harsh cigarette talk, understated compliments for my breasts, smile, maybe my mind, before jokes we repeat gasping, crushed by how funny we can be. But first, that look, my uncertain green eyes meet your knowing brown ones and I see, something awful is coming. I pull in close, I shiver, grasp for your hand, and can’t bear to look back up yet.