Yes, we were lovers, you and I. The spring knew us as the dawn on a dewy meadow, summer as a sun-kissed sky. Winter was warmer for our passion, the snow never settling, the winds not wild just free. In autumn, leaves fell around us as confetti at a wedding that would never be. We lasted a year though muddled seemed the seasons. We lasted a year though they claimed we’d not last a day. Ours was everything and everything was ours, and I couldn’t have been happier if the universe had taken me then to play amongst the stars. No, I do not regret this though I regret much. You gifted me with the most beautiful year of my life, then cursed me with the vacant rest.
So, my friend, you ask again, persist in your questioning, ‘Do I regret it?’
I raise my eyes to a cloud-filled sky and repeat that which I have told myself a million times or more, ‘I don’t regret our love just that we were once lovers.’
Displaced in pieces
You multiplied in each
She radiated, I can’t explain it any other way. Her blush was of an inner beauty few possessed if any. She lit up the station like summer would a cool, winter’s day and thawed the frost my heart. For a moment, I was me again. Then, my train pulled away.
Life without your music is peaceful.
“Take a selfie,” she said.
“Why, I already spend enough time by myself without having it documented?”
“Not for you, for me.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you want a picture of me?”
“To look at until we next go out.”
“Duh! Like, not this time, but next.”
“You really want to see me again?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“But we’re good together.”
“I didn’t dare hope.”
“Jeez, what did she take from you?”
“Well, that can easily be fixed.” She leant in and kissed him on the cheek. His reddening face a reminder of its touch. “There you go, fixed.”
“Because now I’ll hope for another,” he said, smiling for the first time in forever.
There is no excuse for the faded smile
for lights half-lit and curtains drawn.
To be evasive requires prior thought,
whilst to be evaded none.
There is no symmetry to this equation,
at least, none of value to me.
Where is the glimmer and the glint,
the shine and the sparkle,
the light where none existed?
They are removed from this soul
and given to another with shaded blessings.
I am no more a man, your man, the man.
Neither am I any man for the man in me has left.
Now, I am a husk of all I would wish for,
a hollow representation of self.
The cold hard truth is this:
I am yesterday’s man.
It wasn’t the cold metal of the dagger. No, it wasn’t that at all. Neither was it the extraction, the holding of my still beating heart in your hands. No, it wasn’t that. It was your face, your cold, unsmiling lips. Wasted time. It had all been wasted time.
Standing beneath a false sun:
Staring at a room,
Small square in lifeless brick
Aglow with candlelight;
The night makes a mockery of my tears.
She’s playing music,
But not to me.
A cat strolls nonchalantly by,
King of the night,
Flicks a lithe tail at my sadness:
Does nobody care?
I’m not sure which?
Twin are the shadows,
They slip across the curtains;
My heart is wrenched from ribbed cell.
There is no more night to see,
I’ve seen enough.
I’ve seen too much.
Another lonely midnight
Robbed of love.
She trickled away like rain on the glass, yet, I hoped. How I hoped.
Violent clouds disgorged their content upon my soul with nothing but a thin layer of distortion to prevent a soaking. I was already drowning in it, so it made no difference. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t drag myself away from my porthole on the world. You never knew, there was always a chance I might see her walking up the gravel path with a smile on her face, hear the crunch of stiletto on stone. Yes, a chance: no chance.
I traced her face with my fingertips; the rain washed it away. Even Kara’s memory seemed destined to be denied me. It’s funny how you regret in remembrance, but never get the chance in rehearsal. Yeah, hilarious.
And throughout that incessant storm, that washing clean, I sensed myself losing her. With every tear that fell upon the glass, she grew further and further away. My fingers brushed the window in what last effort to make contact with the woman I had loved. The pane mirrored my own pain, cold and unreal.
Washed away, that’s what we were. A love lost to teardrops and time. Perhaps, we’d meet again in the clouds. Perhaps, though I doubted it.