By Linda Fay
Word Count: 193
Rated: G
Summary: A poem about relationship loss.
Didn’t think it would come to this. Did you?
I used to imagine, in the sunny naïveté of an autumn-proof audacity
(when we were weak with the willful courage of impulsive inexperience,
and the world was a color-scalded kaleidoscope of wonder)
I used to imagine that all roads go home,
that it would have to be alright, regardless
because we were in tune with everything that mattered
and nothing was stronger than our overwhelming optimism.
Things change.
Screeching, tunnel-hurtling rails take you away.
Zipping, concrete-scorching tires take me away.
Placid white plane wings streak sky-foam through the atmosphere,
flashing artificial star-blink in the dark – they carry us apart.
Far and fast until I cannot feel you anymore
(there are waters in between us, wide and wild, and I wonder)
‘Cause everything we used to be lies frozen in the ground
in snowy cenotaphs back there. We cannot turn around,
even if we wanted to, even if we dared.
So do me one last favor, please, before I lose your face
and tell me, how on earth could it be less than highest treason,
to fake a flaccid wistfulness and say goodbye with grace?