I think sometimes it’s okay to look at the past,
to stop by and visit,
and say “remember when” I think sometimes, there has to be
Times of the past when the present seems to be empty.
When it’s me across from you
and there’s plenty to talk about but none of it has any, real,
In the present, times of the past are convenient and necessary because I’m looking right at you, but you’re not there anymore.
It’s okay honestly, that you are doing things for you and only you and as you’ve stated God is involved too.
I guess I just didn’t think it would play out like this.
I didn’t realize
I’d have to be moving on too. Not like this any way. Moving on
I guess in a way I hoped
I’d be moving on with you, or at least
I would always know you would be there, somewhere.
I liked that idea
of always having a friend.
Imagination, grand as it may be, doesn’t create reality.
As we sit together,
separate but equal, in the restaurant with the
black and the white, color schemes mimicking the invisible dividing line
I can feel myself straddling.
As I decide, and you decide, and I decide. Those decisions do every good thing except
keep us in sync.
So now I have to decide, through a will that is not mine, the thing you have already decided. The decision I can see
in your eyes.
The decision I can feel
in the air, swirling with the oxygen, I breathe it in
because I have no choice.
You’ve made your decision after all, and I hope you know
I support it, why wouldn’t I? That is what friends do,
still, it would be nice to hear
“I’ll miss you.”
I can ghost with the best of them, cut the ties, disappear without a trace,
and not have a problem
forgetting your face.
In many ways it seems
this is all I’ve ever done with everyone in my life.
I have the experience,
I am qualified.
That doesn’t mean
it’s what I want to do, but
sitting here with you
in the present
when nothing’s present,
and only finding solace in stories of the past,
makes me think that’s the only move left to make.
So that’s okay,
I’ll step over the dividing line, even though I’m making the move much later than you.
You keep on living and so will I, love you and I’m sure you love me too.
What a weird thing, to stare in the face of someone and know they’ve already left you.
I’m not speaking any of these words that slowly, subtly, and subconsciously, seep into my mind like familiar cracks in the foundation that flood
when the rain comes.
I’m taking in the moments
that I’m becoming
more and more certain
are the very last ones in this chapter of my life where you made an appearance.
You’re on a tight schedule and
I allowed for more time,
so I guess the best I can do is make it seem like it matters
and discuss for one last time, the best of times.
I want to say “see you later” but before I’m finished you’re hugging me goodbye.