Letting You Go
I’m reminded of that summer afternoon,
sun porch realities,
screens wafting afternoon breeze,
a bookshelf of our lives,
emptied of all of your blood,
energy, the divine nature of your heart,
the sounding beat of when fingertips
would reach, touch, finger the binding
of our lives together to share the moment.
I remember the naked feeling of being torn about
when gently I’d asked,
‘can we do this together’
without ever realizing how terribly naive
then and months afterward would always
remain caught in a fantasy of need.
We were no longer together, the couple thing,
long forgotten on one side of the garden,
inside the other, the petals struggled to find
any sense of water to bloom, there is no hurry,
to try and revive a dry forest,
we only let nature run its course,
and she did, you did, with our literary magic.
I remember the day you left me cry alone,
again, after the hours and days before,
I remember wondering how I might ever
experience energy with words in the manner
you played with my intellect.
Years later, she came along, and you were
forgotten like the empty spaces of my shelves.