We started with bright lights and an anonymous kiss -
the crowds pushing two strangers together.
My stomach dropped with the meeting of our lips.
Cupid’s arrow shot with deep precision,
my heart took flight at the idea of sweet love,
and I followed a path, forgetting to leave even crumbs behind me.
Luck surrounded me on all four fronts,
every touch was golden,
all coffees had an Irish sweetness.
Small pranks and problems were ignored,
figuring it was all in good fun,
and I would be a fool to leave.
Life exploded for me, then,
igniting the sky and horizon in a blaze.
I tried to remember how to celebrate independence.
My heart worked to forget your touch,
as I labored to ignore my need
to get you back.
I masked my fear that I would be alone,
forever unworthy of being loved,
no one wanting the treats I had to offer.
I tried to be grateful for all
there was to appreciate in life,
even without someone to share it with.
I failed to give myself the gift of peace,
to grant forgiveness to you,
to save myself from humanity’s typical fall.
Instead, come our anniversary,
I huddled under a blanket,
alone,
watching Dick Clark.
Easiest to learn is to share “yours.”
Benefit is mine;
Any loss, minutia or prolonged, is outside.
Necessary course of action no more than a
P and Q.
For the second step,
I may need Superman’s ability to leap.
As I, too, must learn to part.
Seeing that we both benefit
in the instant, connected by my graciousness,
You and I.
The second step has an incline to it, though,
And I will catch myself slipping,
less likely to release my titles,
wanting to make you wait for your license,
setting up a slow-moving line, such as at the
BMV.
Eventually, though, I hope, perhaps,
I might bring myself to care,
and offer up without prompt,
finally being able to see the linings around my loss,
Ag and Au.
The ultimate goal, further from me than
Mauna Kea’s base to its peak,
though that I will train for daily,
would be to see nothing as a sacrifice,
To find this destination, years and tears, though,
YMMV.
You may want to know
if I still love you,
and I do.
You may want to know
if I’ve found someone else,
and I haven’t.
You may want to know
why,
and I haven’t a clue.
All I can say, definitively, is that we
are completely, without a doubt, one-hundred percent
done,
most likely.
I mean, you could always come back with
that perfect response,
the one which will slap me in face with my own stupidity,
the one which will send the earth in a counter-revolution,
the one which will make my feelings skip this generation’s extinction.
But for now, in your silence,
I am steadfast in my decision.
For now, I will turn and walk away
until you reach out and brush my shoulder with
that incredibly graceful hand,
the one which has made my heart work at a staccato,
the one which knows my pressure points and how much force to apply,
the one which creates a tailored glove to mine when we walk down the street,
hand in hand.
But for now, in your stillness,
I take a step, and another,
ready to leave you behind.
Do you still love me?
Your eyes say yes.
Have you met someone else?
Your availability to meet for coffee says no.
Why are you silent and still?
Perhaps it was Mr. Green in the kitchen by candlelight?
Since my consciousness of love began
There have been few days
In which I have done anything to
Liberate my heart from the pain and
Languidness which has seeped in.
Despite plenty of men who have wanted to
Embrace me, I have sought
Solitude.
Engaging only when there was a
Relic of
Vengeance against
Id, waiting for the
Necessary connection to create more
Grief.
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