poem: imperative
Imperative
Three-hundred-and-thirty written pages later
words choked to the brim
and here I am again
starting the process all over again.
I want to give you a rose petal
but I can only afford chocolates
or something more neutral
like...something non-romantic
this age of confusion
but I thought I was way past it
until you came along and proved me wrong.
no apologies, and red looks great on you
seeing you that night, after days of
wandering, lost, in a self-imposed desert
made me remember
why I hung on for
all 330 pages, 11 months,
so tightly
as if letting go would send me
straight into the abyss below.
although...
I'm probably as deluded as you are
amazing
and I say that
because I know
it's the truth.
but still...
I have to let this go.
I stared at your bracelet
sleek metal around your right wrist
and I wanted to touch it
my fingertips brushing against your skin
and I would've...
but I didn't.
The truth pulled me back.
The truth about us:
stark, glaring, blatant:
THERE IS NO US
AND THERE NEVER WILL BE.
I have to let this go.
January 4, 2005, 12 a.m.