Epilogue Part 2

This is not my first rodeo.

I proclaim, as the bull tramples me. 

This is not quite the form of early 20s love

where there's hope behind it.

A sense of loss, yes,

But hope, yet still,

and the maturity to say goodbye

wipe the tears from each others eyes

and wish each other well. 

It has been 5,708 days since my last Epilogue. 

Or 15 years, 7 months, and 7 days. 

I've had heartbreaks before and during,

none quite like these.

The not so spectacular blow ups and throw downs

just a quiet knowing that though we love each other

tremendously,

that this cannot be. 

This time, I didn't get to lace my cooking with sadness

to send you off. 

I didn't have to. 

Their residue will remain on your coat collar

When you arrive at your destination

and I am far beyond you

Silhouetted in the sunset

Cheering you on

and simultaneously heart broken

to see you go. 

There is no such thing as an ending that doesn't come with pain. 

If one truly feels a weight lifted when they walk away

It usually means they waited too long to leave. 

Once again, I say these words:

I could not hold you here.

Not in the graveyard I keep

With the ghosts and the sounds of their shackles clinking

I understand why you would not want to stay

and I don't begrudge you the ending. 

But I did, I did want you to stay.

And I knew, knew you had to go. 

And yet again, love tests me.

Yet again, if you've ever truly loved,

You know that it means letting go.

And learning to stop apologizing for when you need to do so.

As I sit here now,

In this empty apartment,

the echoes of every sound I make reverberating

Because there's no one left to speak to:

I realize, the memory of you is another ghost

In this graveyard I lovingly caretake.

That I, lovingly,

curate for, 

As always, here is a new bouquet for your bedside,

The rain outside that gently weeps

as the petals droop on the last one I made for you,

mirroring my sadness. 

Mirroring the fact of the matter;

The maturity it takes to let one go,

I do not have it, and I'm struggling yet again.

It doesn't get any easier, does it?

Again:

This is not my first rodeo.

But one never becomes used to being trampled by bulls

But maybe, in the next lifetime,

I will be well known in Pamplona. 

I will always love you.

And I hope, with all of the hope I have in my heart,

And still, with all it's brokenness, it still hopes;

That you will take the wings my love gives you and fly.

Just as you've held and healed me 

until my bare burrs held enough feathers

to even imagine the prospect of flight. 

I think, we as a society,

give too much credence to the idea of love at first sight

To the kind of love that dismays and delights

and not to the kind that can solidly still love

and let go.

Wishing the other only the best

of the kindness of the worlds soul. 

P.S. Thank you for everything. 

I have never felt a heartbreak that left me also feeling simultaneously,

a gratitude so deep, it breaks my heart all over again. 

How easy it would've been to spin narratives that allowed me to hate you.

To sever the connection. To proclaim it is me, it is I,

who does not have the proclivity to trust. 

But I trusted you, 

Always have,

Always will,

And still do. 

And I know you'll make it. 

Because I'll be wishing on your happiness as you wish on mine.

It is beyond trite to say:

Thank you for the time. 

But truly, truly: Thank you for the time. 

I hope one day when I'm least expecting it,

I'll look up from tending my herb garden,

or feeding my chickens,

and find that you've found me 

In the most distant location

Far from the world.

And you approach me with the same soft yet sparkling eyes

Honeyed in the suns light,

The same timbre of voice,

proclaiming a depth of self I was never scared to swim in. 

I hope that you will languorously approach me, 

with swinging arms, and a steady step,

as I raise smelling of earth, and rosemary

to greet you,

and welcome you with a warm pot of tea. 

Subjective?

Child,
you are not living in this world
and
I
envy
you.

Storybook Ending

Even sleeping beauty woke up one day
to find her fairytale ended.
the part after "happily ever after"
not so happy
and longer than ever after.
prince charming now king chauvinist
rimmed with a rose rainbow
falls into bed, slovenly.
spent by gluttonous debauchery.
the moment when everything started
to stop
just whispered by.
over half a life.
youth goes un-paused
and age, like good deeds,
never goes unpunished.
in a lapse of acceptance,
she finds herself wishing
she'd gone right back to bed in the first place.

Epilogue

he left today.
an amicable parting.
but this one filled with less sweetness. more sorrow.
headed west, he said,
to escape the ghost of my memories,
the sounds of it's shackles clinking,
the white noise behind everything else
clattering around in his mind.
I couldn't hold him here,
that would be evil
and injust considering...

the light in the morning is clear
a good day to start fresh.
I think.
but the first points of permutation
haven't yet peeked through
from behind their cloud,
and the warmth has yet to spread,
to fill the space that he's left
where, for months, all the cold has been held.

I was shivering, standing infront of the stove.
cooking the last meal
I ever would for him.
wiping tears in the crook of my elbow
that didn't have the onion excuse.
finding out the amount is infinite
to the tears that one can shed
over love in all its forms.
as ours had transmuted,
from friend to lover and back again
until we could no longer face each other
without the doubt put in by remembering
all those shades and phases of grey.
so how can I be expected to so easily say goodbye
remembering the gradient of our romance
and our friendship
a decade of being on a sliding scale
where love is never black or white.
I can never be in love or out of love
just somewhere in between
but that middle ground isn't good enough
and still I know that I can't hold him here
when he's feeling like he has to leave.

my parting gift is the excess of my love
folded into the pancake batter
that which he never felt as much as I had tried to show
my secret ingredient,
to make up for my failures
is bittersweet.
a third of my life, of his,
needs the memory wiped away.
the sad hope is that one day
we'll meet again.
as strangers.
with a vague recollection of heartache
and loss
and a greater sense of the fact that
while people are imperfect
love itself is not.

Living with the Ex

And I don't mean just the memories.
He's here.
Right now.
Sleeping in the other room.

cremation

there is nothing left to this.

it's the hardcover fairytale
i ripped the skin off
and burned the pages of.

currently
the authors name disintegrates
as ash into earth
into wind.

no words left to read.
no pictures left to see.
no story to tell.

sadly
i will save
the stark remains
in a figurative urn
without a lid
accepting the mist of memories
that still envelops me sometimes.

here, now,
he is the last thing on my mind
as i try to reach sleep and forget at the same time.

there's an arrow in my ass cheek and i find it mildly irritating...(scratch that...very irritating...)

i love the idea of you, the idea of me
but the reality is so much different
it's not like a gift given
where it's the thought that counts
words and actions hold too much weight.
the insanity of love
heightened when you're around
is not equal
to the ache
of dealing with your absence
when you can't be found.
I could try to justify it
every time the thought of you jumps up
and i push it away,
like i'm trying right now.
but it's not worth the effort.
so few love stories ever are.
everything comes down
to two psuedo rationalizations.
i'm lazy
and i'm scared,
and i'm not evolved enough
to take any of the blows that you could deal me
and deal with them any less than indignantly.
forgive me.
i'm too weak
to reach
true vulnerable state.
and even if i ever do
i might never do it gracefully.
detachment and fragile pride
vacillating their emotional aftertastes
between shattered self-esteem
and inflated ego
aren't conducive
to cupid's efforts.
but hey,
at least he still tries.
(that mischievous bastard.
i wish he'd find something better to do with his time.)