A Year With You

A poem of love gone wrong.

I  met you on a Saturday
April Fool's Day in early spring.
Love consumed us so quickly
By the solstice I was wearing your ring.

The Summer passed in a whirlwind,
a constant stream of parties and friends.
I couldn't help fearing our time would run out
like a candle burned at both ends.

By Labor Day the whirlwind collapsed;
so I maintained the fantasy.
But each day was harder to reconcile
with objective reality.

Halloween brought a definite cooling,
boiling hot became a slow simmer.
I accepted this as the maturing of love, rather than see it as love growing dimmer.

We spent Thanksgiving together alone
You declined to socialize.
I chose to see the romance of it
And ignore the coldness in your eyes.

On Christmas I detected your distance.
It was really too blatant to miss.
Although there was mistletoe everywhere, we shared not one single  kiss.

New Years eve I was hurt and  angry.
Your flirting so painful to see
It seemed I waited in line
for attention never given to me me.

New years day you simply walked away, the only explanation being  your silence.
So I hid my sadness and heartbreak behind a mask  of disdain and defiance.

Now I sit alone on Valentines Day
jaded, with tears in my eyes.
Watching the happy lovers dance, wondering which partner is telling the lies.

And I feel myself slip into self loathing,
oh so familiar and very cold.
Unable to escape the premonition
that I will be alone as I slowly grow old.
  ©Linda Troxell
12/09/2015