i see your face and
i can’t not utter the truth with a gasp “god, i love you” i’ve thought it as you kissed me in the rain i knew it as i ran my fingers across the braille of your soul i’ve whispered it in your ear, and i’ve screamed it into your pillow, and you would give me that smile, and write me your poetry, and pull me in close to breathe me in, but i told you the last time and you looked down and away and hung up (why am i so fucked that i love you so recklessly) for you don’t love me anymore maybe you never did maybe it was just the way i look(ed) at you the way my words nest(ed) safely against the wounds of your soul the way my skin melt(ed) under your fingertips and now the silence screams that you’ve moved on and i must (MUST) find a way to unlove you yet i see your face and i can’t not utter the truth with a gasp “god, i still love you” it would be an act of kindness for you to just tell me that you’re done that you let go of me that you’ve unloved me because i can’t seem to let go of you, but this broken dance is breaking me i could have kissed you under the moonlight every evening of forever; i would have walked the fence every morning picking dandelions to put by the coffee pot; i wanted to carry your sacred stories for always as we wrote new ones for all of our together tomorrows but my key no longer fits the lock on your door, and now i must learn to unlove you. i’m sorry i wish i could be better right yours i wish this love didn't have me apologizing for who i am but ...i still do and so i must unlove you so that i may remember to love myself. (you will always be my favorite)
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about the writer.“Words are only postage stamps delivering the object for you to unwrap” (George Bernard Shaw) past tense.
January 2019
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