You Dear,
look like a friend from antiquity
the one in whom the seasons changed us more than they change themselves
I’m sorry I could not circumvent the grief we’ve shared and caused
Our rotation caused collision
and carried us further and further and further….

and then away
I keep looking, staring really, passed the painful parts
the lovely parts too,
yet there is the image of your face floating in my hope
I’ve asked it to leave with you towards whatever boundary
you can run to without looking back.
Looking back
my affection for you became the trowel
digging away, grinding the roots of my insecurities
unconvinced that any hurt would wed itself to my identity
and I, helpless under your hand, try to shield myself from
the kindness, the unmatched countenance, the tenderness
to keep myself from whatever goodness would prevail in me.
I would fight you to the death instead of
laying down and dying
to the same result
just without rest.
I would fight for you but you’ve run a race
finishing at a line that was not the one
where I pray you into the place of choosing
and you carefree in your tears
attract an audience
with the songs, the sonnets, the sentiments
that the world (or at least mine) has signed its salutations
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