to all the men i've loved before . pt2

scrawled 9.12.2005 by miss.abi | E-mail this post

the trees dropped their defenses
on the corner of Maple and Hillary
and I fell in love with you
on the steps
under a harvest moon.

but

seasons changed
situations, rearranged
we became
addicts
our love, frantic at best
and so I left.
my dear john letter a
'for rent' sign and a
disconnected phone.
ran home
sought solace in poems
played inverse neruda
I wrote you
twenty songs of despair

and now here I sit
in the aftermath of nature's cruel intentions
searching for the face
of a man I've murdered so many times in my dreams
straining to pick out the voice
I fought so long to forget

I wrote you
twenty songs of despair
and not a single love poem
learned the healing properties
of pen to paper
only after I left you
after you left me
torn and crumpled
like unfinished thoughts in
discarded notebooks

I wrote you
twenty songs of despair
and this be your love poem
for nights spent on the lake
our dreams stretching past Ponchartrain's North Shore
for breakfasts in my classroom
stolen kisses before the kids came
this shall be the poem
where I hold moments to my heart
the first time I met your brother
you, fighting back tears
when he woke up long enough for a smile

this shall be the poem
where I remember
chess and dinner with your folks
long Sundays in bed
dinners in the St. Bernard
showers until the hot water ran cold
and how no other
has fit me quite like you

I shall love you in this poem
tuck your scent into its words
hide your face in the safety of its lines
lock your memory away
in the boundaries of this poem
here, where it is safe to forgive
I shall release you of guilt
from lesson's learned in blood and tears
scrawled 'cross a dark chapter of my life

I wrote you
twenty songs of despair
and this shall be your love poem
from the woman I wasn't then
to the man I know you could have been
and though you will never hear it
this shall be your love poem.

wherever you are