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.