it’s the hands that you’re forgetting .

not a many things so sweet as
the touch that’s meant for mending .

I can no longer tell you, ‘I love you’

but I can no longer forget
days when you said things with care

moments you thought so rare
came so naturally to you and me .

a shame that it’s all I can give to you
a memory for when you feel lonely .

a short word is the only

offering .

but let it be enough for now .

I hope it helps you see how
this is not the end
as all hearts will mend -

yours and mine and those that know
that love is all we have to show
in the end .

so difficult! as a little birdie tells me everything

and oh! what a pesky one he is.

and/but/yet I can’t lie to you -

best to tuck this away for another day

when we meet up in our afterlives,

in the afternoon when the swollen sun rises up.

yes, then I’ll tell you in a helpful way.

You might cry.

I will surely cry as I do.

but you (should) know I meant to do you right.

yes, we’ll patch it up later

when we’re finished sewing our hearts back into our chests.

and when I said we’d meet again noontime,

I’m sorry I took the train instead and

I missed your stop and I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

You hated when I said that

and I’m sorry.

you can take out on me in a hushed tone

all the sour feelings and crumpled bodies we think we’ve made ourselves into

…

yes, why don’t we whisper our thoughts today

while our minds are already edging eagerly over the rails,

while we can briefly keep our sanity

…

for with a quick snap, we could fall

and you would do things you wouldn’t do

if you had whispered

…

so, come here, my love, and tell me

what you think of me

however vile or vain or insulting

…

if you whispered

I could take it

when I did not want anything from you.

the first sentence was foretelling of the rest of our lives.

it’s like we’ve come full circle now, isn’t it?

I wonder if you see that…

I’m not so sure that you do

and I’m not so sure that I can show you.

I. gave. you. endless possibilities.

I gave you me and you gave me nothing of you.

for that I am eternally grateful.

eternally scarred

that I gave you all my pride, gift-wrapped in silk

and tied with a ribbon of red and gold

and you gave me not an ounce,

not a crumb.

I made of you all my most special and indescribable thoughts.

I made of you all that my imagination could make of someone I didn’t know.

…

eternally grateful.

eternally scarred.

…

we’ll leave it at that.

because I always flip the cards.

This was the blind bet -

and I, the player that you sought.

But, it is time to let it go.

So, let it go.

Sure, I may have hidden behind the deck,

but I never wiped off my sly grin.

…I’m sorry if that stings…

But, in every round, I am the same.

The silent basta, queen of spades -

yes, I may have brought this to its grave.

But, when it comes to this,

the end, your folly and your shame,

you’ll see that I never changed -

I only kept my face

because that’s how I play the game.