I thought I’d feel betrayed or ugly or stupid or something. But he actually handled it very well. I am disappointed (gee whiz, I’m not THAT healthy!) but not devastated. As I mentioned repeatedly — and can’t seem to stop mentioning, vain fuck that I am — I had standbys in the wing, ready to console me.

I know. Ha! I’m a mess!

So anyway, I may write a few more poems about him… but as usually happens in the few cases where my feelings aren’t returned in kind, that feeling is fading. I can only hold a torch to someone for so long before it starts to go out on its own.

You see what I did there. Flame. Torch. Never mind…

As always, if nothing else, I have got some seriously beautiful poetry out of it. They’re the ones tagged flame poetry.

Unexpectedly? It’s a little bit of relief. Again, not VERY, I’m truly not that together. But in the back of my mind, I feel like had my feelings been returned in kind, it threw all kinds of other complications into the mix. Was I going to move across the country Again for love?

Would I have potentially derailed myself? Because as I said, I knew very clearly that if he’d said, okay, great, come to me, I would have been on the next flight, no kidding. Potentially repeating the same cycle that brought me here. In a healthier situation, yes, but still not necessarily a healthy choice.

The point is, the more i run “what if it had worked out” scenarios in my head, the more I find ways that it wouldn’t have. Which is good. Because now I don’t have to sit here and convince myself it’s all for the best. Because in all likelihood, it is.

…and.

the picture of you in my mind is of the softness in your eyes and
a reflection of the love i have staring back at me.
there are moments i’m so sure you feel it
not that i feel i have to wait
for what you’re feeling
to address what
i am

…but.

i am holding back. naturally out of concern for you, but a lie is a lie is a lie
is omission and my level of contrition in the face of our redefinition
of integrity – well it’s killing me. my love for you is bursting.
i swim in it whenever my head is filled with your words
secretly coming undone during innocent exchange
moist and clandestine the blush flushes
imagining your touch. you see?
it makes me wander from
the point of all this.
which is
you…

…well.

i’m digressing because i’m procrastinating and, well, i’m procrastinating
because i’m scared. and i’m scared because i don’t know if this
from me would be a new complication or a blessing to you
then i realized yesterday just how much i loved you
once. enough to drive me to tears and i haven’t
cried like that in years not even over death.
not too profound to say but i’m – doing it
doing it again see? what you make me
can’t take the anxiety. not anymore
so i’m going to go ahead and
open up to you no more…
bs.

…so.

back then, when we were … so … entwined. press rewind and pause
and you’ll see that i didn’t just adore you. it went so much deeper
and if you click forward one frame you’ll see me loving you
and not loving you, to be clear, like one loves a dear one
or even how you love a dear one you fell into a
lust-ship with for a few months, more like
i was in love with you. so deeply
i wore it casually but it was
a formal affair to me
i loved
you.

…yes.

i was in full on, yes i will marry you like you asked me the first time, love.
and was is the wrong word. especially in the space where i write
because i am still in love with you and to tell the whole truth
i’m fairly sure i never stopped loving you
just gave up that we could be. i know
you can’t love me back. probably not
now at least, but if you could i’d
do
say
be

anything.

go anywhere
as soon as
we’re
free.

precisely because i know you’d never
let me change. not for you.
then, you loved as is.
and that is why.

i’m no longer ashamed of it, and.
it’s the same, my part of us
it’s the same this love,
we’re the same

it’s
still
the same.

and i?
am out of the keep it secret game…

If I told you the entire situation, you might wonder how I can be in love with him. I can’t because that would be revealing his business, and that’s the one thing I won’t do. There’s no problem sharing, at length, my feelings, how I feel, and my adoration levels. However, exposing him isn’t an option, even though you wouldn’t know who he is.

I wouldn’t want to do anything that I’d consider a breach of privacy.

Today we were on the phone for several hours. I’d been getting sleepy, so I came upstairs to lie down for a nap. I just had the feeling I should call him though. He hadn’t seemed his true positive self for a day or so.

We had a long conversation about the things that had been on his mind. I did my best to ask probing questions to see if there was a way that either I could help him with his problems, or make him see that some of his sense of failure was simply a need for an adjustment in perspective.

I’m happy to help any friend, and it gives me genuine pleasure to be that somebody to lean on, so for me, it’s almost like a treat to have that kind of conversation, and end it with the other person feeling better.

With him, just hearing his voice was enough.

I really, honestly wish there was some way that I could see this working out. Being realistic though, I can only burn my candle to him, faithfully, quietly and hope.

Even if my feelings are returned, there’s just no real place in either of our lives to take a break and experience that love and growth. I like to think in February, when I have a little pocket change, and the rest of my life is back on track, that I could indulge myself.

Still, while writing this (last night) I got a very positive sign.

He sent me a short, heartfelt note about our talk. And it made my smile deep into my soul.

If You Ever Have to Apologize to Me, Flowers are Good Bribery

Whether or not I have any type of chance with Flame beyond friendship, I knew one thing for sure. I needed to say I was sorry.

You may remember me saying that I cut Flame out of my life once. Not my greatest hour. We do crazy things when we’re in pain. I was in both physical and emotional pain. No excuse, just the reasons.

Last night I was thinking about our friendship from his perspective, and how quickly I disappeared, how completely. In that moment, I felt compelled to make amends.

I stopped what I was doing, reached out, and apologized. He accepted it in his typical gracious fashion. And I don’t know if I can explain this clearly – but I didn’t apologize to receive relief from his forgiveness.

I apologized to set things right. And in return, I was set free. Not from his forgiveness – in his conduct with me it was clear that he had already forgiven me, probably as soon as I did it, as is his style.

The freedom came from the gesture itself.

This started me thinking about how many people in my life have done things that I felt were wrong, and apologized, vs people who I resumed relationships with, in the absence of any admittance that they were wrong, or regret over hurting me.

Sometimes, even when the thing you did was really hurtful, or wrong, or just out of character, the fact that you apologize for what you did will more than cancel out the mistake for the other party.

And it’s amazing how much peace it can bring you. As side effects go, that one’s hard to beat.

Have a great day.

Why am I keeping all these beautiful thoughts and feelings to myself? Why not share them with the person(s) they’re about? (You did know I meant my love questions, right? )

For Flame in particular, my hopes for having something with him, are quite frankly, dim. It’s a long shot at best, and so I’m waiting for the optimal revelation time, for the following reasons.

1. I’m still sick.

No one I’d love is that shallow that they’d love me less because of it, but as a side effect of not having the energy to get out of bed some days, I don’t feel my best. I lost 80 pounds last year, but I’m still really sensitive about anyone taking my picture. I’m not ME yet. And I can’t be with anyone until I’m the real me again, unless they originally knew me as this me, you know?

Physically, mentally and emotionally. I’m not going to wait until I feel like I’m perfect. First that will never happen! But I do want to wait until I’ve recovered enough to have normal days, and share them with someone else.

2. Because I’m not a selfish bitch.

His situation is complex. It won’t be forever, but it is now. And no, he’s not a bigamist or anything like that.

And I don’t want to be an additional complication to anyone’s life. Not just for him but for my own, selfish reasons. (Yeah, I’m kinda selfish in this regard.

Still not a bitch though. )

This next time I have to be the number Only woman. Coming off a relationship with someone who has 6 kids and 4 baby mamas, this is Really important. While we’re on that tangent? I’m a reasonable person. I can take one baby mama, as long as she’s romantically out of the picture. I was ready to take on 4.

But not if I had to be kept a secret. Oh yes, yet another lovely thing I found out about Droplet along the way. He was keeping me a secret from the rest of his harem.

And oh by the way did I mention? One of the baby’s mamas he was still married to even though they split up during in 2002.

(Which of course I didn’t find out until we were living together. CLASSY. You stay classy, Austin.)

So with that and my own issues with my illness? I’m full up on drama, thanks. NO SOUP FOR YOU.

3- Regular, old fashioned fear.

I’m a big fraidy-cat. I admit it. You happy now?

The fears I have though, are with some merit. If that sounds like I’m rationalizing, I am.

I have to do everything I can to keep myself from indulging in the ridiculously bad idea of revealing my feelings too soon. Every morning I have to talk myself out of it.

Still, I’m working on my fears, because when I do reveal myself, I don’t want to do so out of embarrassed mortification. I want it to be my last passage into the new me, a right of first-refusal if you will.

If that doesn’t make sense, read my next reason.

4- The possibility of being with him has become a huge motivator, a big wave of action-taking in my life. Some of my lack of energy, though not all, has been from feeling depressed and unworthy.

Even without having my feelings returned, remembering how he made me feel before we even got the chance to really be something to each other, is lifting me up. It’s giving me energy I didn’t have before. It’s helping to focus me, to remind me that yes, I do deserve better. And yes, I am beautiful and Droplet isn’t the only one on earth ever to have thought so.

My life is coming together again, and this awakening is party responsible.

But. I’m not magically all better. I’m still a bit sensitive, tentative, not quite back to my normal confidence level. When I’m back there, if I get rejected, I’ll be able to take that rejection in stride. I’m not far from that point, knowing me. But a rejection now would hurt all of my feelings, and on top of me breaking up with Droplet recently, and the toll his borderline-stalkerism is causing, I’m really not feeling another blow to my ego right now.

You don’t know what it’s like to be in an African family and tell everyone you’re getting married, then not go through with the engagement.

What if my love is accepted and reciprocated? Well, that brings me to reason 5.

5- It became really important for me to make sure I have a place for a relationship in my life so that I will neither be giving something up of myself to be with someone, nor gaining a responsibility I don’t have time for yet.

Right now, in the present timing, I don’t have the time to love Flame the way he should be loved. I have the priority of getting myself back on track mentally, getting my business on track to profits of 20k-60k a quarter, and regaining my physical health and strength. The way I’m going now I should be on pace by February.

Last time I was in love, I gave up;

• the prospect of owning a house
• being around my family,
• helping to raise my sister’s twins,
• being around my friends,
• my in-person support network,
• the chance to grow even closer to my youngest sister who has become my best friend,
• the second-wind of my business recovering,
• rent-free living in a clutter-free home,
• and not having bills for a year except for a phone bill, a car note, and my medical bills.

Right now, I can’t say I wouldn’t derail my life to be with Flame. If he told me today he wanted to be with me, I’d be on the next flight. Until I can say that doing that wouldn’t mess up my own life plans, I need to suck it up.

Also, once I do have room for love in my life, in addition to what I already have, not as something I will sacrifice, then I’d like to have some other options in place in case it doesn’t work out. I have several prospects warming up… and if I’m back at even 80%, I can create prospects anywhere I go, LOL.

IE, if it didn’t work out, I’d have a fan club to console me.

Don’t get me wrong. If we choose each other, he’ll be the only one for me, for as long as I’m the only one for him. BUT, if he doesn’t choose me back, it won’t be a crushing defeat in say, 2 months, as it would be today.

It may seem that I’ve really put a ridiculous amount of thought into my little crush. And I have, so that’s true. But not in the sense that I don’t realize that life is messy, and rarely goes according to plan. I’m ready for what if he happens upon this blog and figures out what part of it is about him. I’m pretty sure this isn’t going to go as planned no matter what I do.

Still, it’s important for me to articulate to myself all the reasons for doing this the way I’m doing it so I can keep my big mouth shut for a few weeks or months more.

… it’s so necessary. I have two great loves in my life that I regret not declaring sooner. Despite the heartache I’ve been through with each of the guys I’ve been entwined with, I don’t regret having loved them. Tragic love stories are better than never having loved, as I read somewhere on Tumblr today.

My first great love that went undeclared too long was in high school. I was part of a clique led by this ultra-fine Puerto Rican guy named Ricky. He was very fine and had a fraternal twin brother who was near identical to him. Unlike his twin though, he was the sweetest, kindest, nicest person you would ever want to meet.

For over a year I thought he was perfect, and kept biding my time. Then one day he looked into my eyes, gave me one of the best hugs ever, and gave me his jacket that I jokingly asked him for every day. Then he just walked away.

He called me on the phone later that night to tell me he had to go back to Puerto Rico and didn’t know when or if he was coming back. And I told him I loved him.

He said he loved me too, after a brief pause.

I said, “No. Ricky, I really, really love you. I love you, love you” (Why did we talk like that in school? What’s wrong with saying, I’m IN love with you? Of course, we never really leave high school anyway, so, ha, whatever, right?)

He said, “Me too.”

So after I was done dying inside, and crying on the phone with him, we said a very tearful goodbye.

And I vowed never to let love pass me by again, unannounced. It’s one thing to wait for good timing. It’s another to run out of time entirely.

I had another wonderful love in college. His name was Reggie. We had a very strange interaction. He saw other women. I saw other men. We never officially were a couple. But when we saw each other, when we were together, the rest of the world stopped. Ceased to exist.

For some reason, I just didn’t care what happened when he was around other girls as long as none of them were his girlfriend. And I openly discussed dates with him. It was crazy.

And yet, we’d lay in bed together and stare into each others eyes. Or sit around and laugh ourselves silly for no reason. Or have these deep conversations.

I never knew why we didn’t have some kind of formal arrangement. And I didn’t really want one, which puzzled me too. I liked the freedom, and I knew for sure his heart was mine. I could just feel it.

Then one night, I had many of my questions answered, in the last way I was expecting. In retrospect, I should have known. Maybe I did, but didn’t want to, and avoided thinking about it. Who knows.

Reggie used to show up to my apartment drunk, and sad. And he would never tell me why. I’d hold his head in my lap and caress his face until he fell asleep. Then we’d lay entwined all night.

He also had told me once that if I ever had an emergency to let me know because his father had given him an American Express platinum card and he was allowed to buy anything he wanted, as long as it wasn’t a car. I asked him why his father was so generous and why he didn’t buy things for himself. Or why if his father had it like that, why he worked.

He never answered.

This one day that he came to my campus apartment, I remember he had on this hat, tilted to the side. Not a beret, but it was similar in shape. In the mid-90s a lot of the guys from New York wore them. When Mos Def’s Black on Both Sides was out, I saw him in a hat like that more than once.

Anyway. he had on that hat, and he was standing in the doorway, looking at the ground when I opened the door. He looked at me.

And I looked at him.

And something in his eyes… fell. He dropped his books on the floor and I crossed the room into his arms. He wasn’t sobbing, but I could feel his tears on my neck.

I asked him what was wrong when we were laying on my bed later, after he was calmer. And he told me he was dying of a rare blood disease, and was going home the next morning. And probably wouldn’t see any of his friends again.

And hadn’t told anyone except me.

So now I understood. The drunk, sad nights. Why we never even discussed becoming a couple, and just enjoyed the moments. The AmEx card from his father. He was enjoying his last days on earth and had known they’d be his last for a while.

We cried together. Then we … did other stuff … together. Such beautiful things were said that I feel like they’d be somehow tainted if I recorded them somewhere.

In order to say goodbye, we had to pretend we’d see each other the next day. I still remember him walking away. I didn’t take my eyes off him until I couldn’t see him anymore.

I’ve lost other loves and lovers to death, but none like that. He was special to me in a way no one else was, and is probably the person who both knew and understood me the most. He taught me, more than anyone else, that life and love is so fleeting and precious, and you have to enjoy it when it’s there, in whatever form it exists.

That’s part of why I’m taking such pleasure in being in love right now, with this person I can’t expose my feelings to, yet. And yes, i’ve come to decide it’s a “when” and not a “what if” with Flame. it’s worth the risk. I’m going to enjoy it on my own for a week or a month more. But then I’m going to ease into a revelation of my feelings at medium speed of seduction. I’ve changed my mind for several reasons.

Mainly it’s because I’ve been remembering how much time has been lost in past relationships over the first meander into love. I’m remembering love undeclared, love lost, love that wasn’t fully explored and could have been.

It would be worth the chance of heartbreak if he was ready to go for it. And if he wasn’t, well, let’s just say I’ve been developing quite the fan base to console me in the meantime.

All predicated on the huge IF that Flame feels remotely about me that I feel about him.

Or I might just be rationalizing the whole thing – which is why I’m not acting on it, say, tomorrow.

this.
has to stop.

I keep thinking it’s under control and that sane moments are prevailing and that eventually, maybe this one time, today, I will wake up and not love you. Because yesterday I was at least over the love letter enough to speak to you without telling you that I want to start a forever with you today. I thought I spoke very sensibly, and that while there was some aftermath of slicked thighs and caramel thoughts of skin pressed together, the logical conclusion for me was that this was lust.

not Love

which.
has to stop.

One love song.

One stupid, sappy, sentimental sensitive, sensory recollection embedded in a love song dissolved me back in time, salty tears mixing with the ocean of the love I hold inside for you.

One song and I’m ruined, progress discarded. I thought all the venting of my soul was supposed to help me reclaim my control, my dominance over my heart and my thoughts and my resolve not to pursue this until the time is right or maybe not at all.

Wait, when did I start saying “until the time is right” or “maybe” not at all? I can’t have these thoughts because they are blurring into fantasies I can’t handle and

that.
has to stop.

Then there’s the pining. Seriously, am I 12? I’m supposed to be in lust, so where is all this internal whining coming from? Why can’t I just get. a grip. And go back to the empty quiet life I had, slowly building an ice wall around myself in a comfy cool separation? How did you get back into my head?

And since when do I think about you when I’m not in bed? And why can’t I fight against my emotions, or at least just pretend that in the end I’ll

be able to
…stop …

through my eyes

realizing.

So yeah, I’m in love again if you haven’t noticed. I’m in a totally exhilarating, you-can’t-be-in-love Love, again.

If I was to go by people I know the best, people who fulfilled the promises they made to me, this would be the person closest to being the love of my life, the one who got away. If I’m being honest, the only reason I didn’t give him the crown before was that he was out of the realm of possibility, in that he was taken at the time I was doing my tally.

He’s not anymore, hasn’t been for longer than I would have thought.

But I have to call him a crush because I just can’t go there. And if by some miracle it seems that I can, at the very least not yet.

It’s not that new guy (we’re calling him Flame) is bad for me. It’s not that I’d be bad for new guy. Truthfully, thinking back I believe the only reason Flame and I are apart is circumstance.

The circumstances were these (why did they cancel Pushing Daisies?).

Number One:

I’ve been through a lot of turmoil in my life, and my main coping mechanism is to block things out. I avoid thinking about things that are painful, finding a distraction until they’re just gone. This can be good in the sense that I’m functional for that period of time. It helped me survive the part of my childhood that is peppered with sexual abuse.

So blocking out bad thoughts clearly it has its place, in terms of temporary survival tactics.

Still, it’s bad in that I mentally throw the baby out with the bath water, meaning I cease to think about six months or a year of my life and anyone who reminds me of that time period is essentially dead to me. I met him during a time of unforseen tragedy, and in forgetting that to get past it, I forgot about him.

I distanced myself, and in that time, he met someone else, who, by the time I invited him back into my life, he was in a serious relationship with. At the time, so was I.

Sometime around the time I became unentangled from my lover, so did he with his, unbeknownst to me, he was no longer with. By this time, we had started to become friends again.

So that circumstance has been overcome, it’s not like I’m going backwards out of nostalgia, adopting an old relationship with its old problems.

Number Two:

On top of my rock-em sock-em block-em robot issue, I find it extraordinarily hard to trust people.

Okay, not true. Obviously I trust “people” as a group, or I wouldn’t have my little lovefest here online. I find it hard to trust a person, an individual, a new friend. Though, nce I feel my trust has been earned, I’m loyal to a fault.

But since trust deepens over time, catch-22 here we come.

Trust is one of the primary components of love. So there’s that. I can’t even trust Flame enough right now to tell him that I’m still in love with him.

Shit Shit Shit

I’m still in love with him.

Now, that’s one parallel with my relationship with Droplet (the ex-fiance) that I’m not comfortable with. Of course, comparing the love I shared with Flame and the love I had with Droplet is like comparing a hot extra vanilla latte to instant coffee.

Still.

How Can I Still Be In Love With Him?

Better question – how could I have still been in love with him all this time and not known it? Answer – I buried it, apparently. As we talked about, I’m good at that. Too good.

I was initially just reminiscing about what it feels like to me, to truly be loved, in the aftermath of my break-up with Droplet, because I wanted to make sure I never settle for anything less than that again.

This last time I settled because I heard the words “Marry me”. Droplet never followed through with any of this promises related to asking for my hand, not one. And they weren’t outrageous promises mind you. But I held on because I thought, I’m 36. Who else is going to marry me?

My biological clock had just started ticking, and I had marriage/baby on the brain. So I did a lot of compromising, because I believe that’s what relationships are about.

Problem is, both parties have to compromise and he did not.

Anyway, back to how I came to realize I love Flame still.

I found this love letter he’d written to me. And it all came rushing back. Not the memories, or even the memories of the feelings, which is what normally happens.

The actual love.

I’m wandering into such dangerous territory. I can tell he feels that something is different between us, too. It seems he’s suddenly being freer when we speak, talking off the top of his head, before he felt a bit guarded.

And he seems to be reacting to me the same way he did before either of us would talk about what we were feeling the last time.

Which really scares the crap out of me. Unless I’m imagining/projecting all of that, which is even scarier.

Already losing my nerve to be resolute. Maybe I should just play it cool for now, get myself fly again, then fly out there for a short visit for the first part of February.

Shit Shit ShitshitshitSHIT shit. I can’t do this. I have to finish recovering- don’t I? He’s probably not recovered from his break-up yet. Even if he’s totally fine, I can’t just pounce on him now, out of… respect or something like that.

And … and.

Hm.

What were the other reasons again?

Shit.

I never noticed it until we were over but I always, ALWAYS write poetry every day when I’m in love and I didn’t with him. For my lover usually, but being in love? Normally opens me up creatively in general. I can make more products faster and get ideas at a pace it’s hard for my hands or lips to keep up with.

You don’t understand how close this new guy was to being the love of my life. We were great friends before it ever came to romance, although I’d say the attraction was immediate and electric upon our initial encounter.

By rights, of all the men I’ve ever loved, if we’d gotten our actual relationship underway he’d be closest to earning the title of soulmate. I’ve had that whole soulmate experience in about half the relationships I’ve been in, all the serious ones.

There’s just some kind of thing I know how to do, in building this empathic two-way bridge between me and another person.

When I’m truly in love, we sync up as a couple, mentally we have a link where we’re on the same wavelength and sometimes, full conversations without words. It goes beyond thinking the same thing at the same time to feeling each other’s emotions, to feeling a near-physical presence of the other person when they’re away.

It took me a while to realize that experiencing romantic love in this way is not normal to most other people.

I should have gone to him. I should have embraced him. I should have married him.

We’re going to call new guy “Flame” from here on out because I’m gonna be talking a lot about him. We’ll call my ex Droplet, since they’re as different as fire and water.

I initially felt that, because of some of the parallels of my relationship with Droplet to my near-relationship with Flame, that I’d be repeating the same pattern if enough time passes that Flame and I could get together.

For example:

I referred to my ex as my truest love. After further reflection and actually being with Droplet for extended periods, it turns out that Flame is much closer to this ideal if I’m being honest.

Droplet’s the first guy I’ve ever gotten back together with after having broken up. I have a rule about and it was a big mistake to go against it. He hasn’t changed, nor has he fixed what his issues were then that split us apart. In fact, our little honeymoon phase was over in about 20 weeks.

I work really hard to keep my relationships beautiful and loving to the last day. What I usually have as a relationship is the honeymoon phase to other couples, so you understand?

But what comparatively was our honeymoon phase would last the first year. That can’t-get-enough sex-every-day passionate you’re-my-crack feeling only JUST starts to get under control after a year. And even then we’re talking fade, not disappearance.

With Droplet, it evaporated. In 4 months.

And since he lied to me about just about every possible thing that made him that person who could have been my soulmate or love of my life, he loses that title.

There are similiaries in that Flame and I never got to be truly together as circumstance kept us apart.

But unlike Droplet and I, we had never truly started a relationship beyond declarations of love. We also didn’t have a point of failure we would be attempting to overcome. Tragedy struck, and I couldn’t be with Flame due to those circumstances. And since it involved him, he reminded me of it.

On the other hand, Droplet hurt me really badly, causing some of the circumstances that kept us apart.

So we wouldn’t actually be getting back together. We’d be starting out, going to try.

If I could bring myself to overcome my feeling about being with him. Which is just a whole other story.

and I remembered the first time you said you loved me
the way it made me feel
you can’t imagine
it was in this way
a way that you can’t imagine

for the explosive mixture
of heartache and desire
I was fingering pages that emanated our last forever
teasing the scent of then back into my soul

a physical pain remembering
how much I love you

I mean loved
Remembering
how much I loved
loved
love
you.

Which of course made me think of the first time you said you loved me
the way it made me feel
you can’t imagine
it was in this way
a way that you can’t imagine

I’m so petrified that you’re watching me more closely than you say you are
That you’ll come upon this token of my blood’s love-drunk pledge to you
And call me with counseling words of how we can never be
Asking me why I can’t see that we’d never go far
But I can’t help it

because I love you
in this way
that
you
can’t imagine.

the way I love you
you can’t imagine it
you couldn’t comprehend
wish dream or
imagine it

“I love you in a way you can’t imagine.”

I’ve been done with him long enough to know that I want the taste of you in my mouth like fresh honey. I can see your eyes every time I close mine. Falling under your spell

too
too
too

soon after this disengagement. Because I just don’t want you to be a rebound lover. I want to reach for you, apple of my high, sink my teeth into the delicious note of your apparition, still living in me. And I know I can’t have you, is the problem. I know it in every one of the molecules that collides within my body as they each scream your name.

I’ve not the faintest clue how to get you out of my system. Explain to me what makes someone sit around and read old correspondence over and over, smelling pages, draping paper across my arm as if I can squeeze your touch out of ink.

I can’t be like this. I absolutely cannot be like this. I cannot be brought to tears remembering the heat of your voice in my ear. Reason, sanity, unclouded straight-thinking – these are the things I ought to be clinging to, ought to be playing songs about and singing out loud. Songs like Slowly, Surely, I walk away from

but. Little “b” but. I can’t walk away from you, run, think, speak.

My first mistake was becoming friends. The first time you re-inhaled my voice I could hear the caution in yours. Like I’d be like danger to touch. Like our smoke meant fire. Like you knew better than to sip my poison.

And it would, is, does. That was the moment I swallowed any doubt that leaving him was right. And I didn’t know you were leaving her.

Yet from the first electric feather of your apprehension, I was back there again, back on my back drinking every word you ever said, letting you destroy me, recreated with your softly uttered syllables, whispering me into frenetic spasms that bordered on pain with their intensity.

How is it that I’m writing you again, writing poetry? – I can only write poetically, write poetry when I’m in love, with an idea, with a song with a

shit.

It is expressly forbidden to love you. I can’t even handle the idea that our skin might brush past each other in coming months. Or that our vocal vulnerability would waft in neighboring air. We can’t meet, ever again. Right now I’m losing control of myself, right now, thousands and thousands of miles split from you my heart wails a pattern in your chest, begging for release.

We must not be lovers. Both our worlds would cease in that shower of delight. And as the ebbing embers of each echoed eternity eventually eclipsed every elevation, all of the stars finger-painting in the sky would point at us

ending the world
ending the world
ending the world.