an apology

we whispered ourselves into existence at the foot of my bed, half awake.

your smile was the seal of our creation

your lips, the antithesis to my matrix.

do you remember the filtered sun, Jasper?

pouring through my cheap curtains each morning

liquid light filling all these empty spaces.

an unwarranted morning

of arms intertwined,

fingers interlocked like desperate pieces

of an incomplete puzzle

you called me poetry

but my metaphors can’t save you, Jasper.

do not grieve the death of your muse

any longer.

I have learned

that 330 miles can’t erase anything I’ve done.

I have learned

that 330 miles cannot fulfill me.

I am unfinished, Jasper,

you cannot love a sketch

the same way that you love a Monet

lift your hands at last from my sculpture sides

whisper, “it’s over.”

let this resonance of ending

fill all your empty spaces

I passed through you like an apparition

wind through a tree

leaving you with scattered parts of yourself

falling to your feet

and then, gone forever.

leave me to my sepulchre dorm

leave me to my 330 mile fantasy

look to the sun, filtering now through your branching arms

the fragmented light at your feet is your story now

let this be our retribution

let this be the art

I couldn’t be for you.

Reviews

[Resa]

My God!
That was incredible!
I was totally enthralled in your words, your story.
You’re quite talented:)