Specters
A poem
You tried to say
you had to leave
because you don’t love me
But you couldn’t
But you got the point across
nonetheless
Now that you are gone
I must say
that I felt loved by you anyhow,
a hundred or a thousand moments —
I was wrapped in it,
like a rainstorm on every inch of cotton
You will now have years ahead,
and they will burn
in you regretting –
like pages singed, smoked, and curling
erasing each word of every story
from the binding outward–
not the mere loss of me
but rather
the unknown life
you almost chose
Specters will chase you
They will one day gather in harmony,
rise above a whisper,
in a chorus
Greek and refraining:
What wonders might have come to be…
but for your Fear?
The singers will remind you
what you have surely forgotten:
you brought to me
a future,
and when I said yes,
you were gone.
I promise, though,
a few more heartbreaks
and you’ll learn the subtle
difference
between
Lovelessness
and the terror
of being unequipped —
of being unwilling –
to let go and run
Headlong
Into the rain
