by Lawrence J. J. Leonard
They say it’s your . . . uh . . .
Well. Hope it’s a good one.
I put it on my calendar, the day you and I
had that thing back in the 2000s.
What is it about separation that feels like eternity?
It’s only been six years and seems like yesterday
when we walked along the beach together.
You’ve moved on and so have I,
while I’m lurking in that box with all of your stuff.
Are you really happy now, not being here?
Is that new partner of yours better than my arms?
Listen, if the universe lets you do that.
I gotta tell it or my face will fly off
or my head will explode or my heart will melt again.
You left a very deep mark on my fingers.
There is a stain on my soul that can never be erased.
This is about survival and thriving and connection.
Here it is on the line and there’s no breadcrumb
no inkling no residual no iota of interest or hope.
This is not about being on my own, but I forgot to forget.
So, with every breath I take I pray to you,
think of me once in a while.
In a whole day, I can blink once then see you,
which can be so satisfying and so cruel.
In either case I will take it. I would take it.
I put it on my calendar, the day you passed away.
Well, hope today is a good one.
Copyright © 1960-2016 Lawrence J. J. Leonard All rights reserved.