The unjustifiably pink clouds
wash over me and I blink
to allow the flowing waves to crash.
Your voice clicks like icicles in the sunshine:
a memory unwelcomed.
I know the guilt,
but what I do not know
is why you,
why now.
You are not here to tell me that
the clouds are pink for a reason.
Reducing their beauty
to a science
I will not remember in the morning.
If I had to choose again
I would choose the same.
I know you told me
never to answer the questions
you were asked when you were a kid
but it isn’t fair because what you are
is only half
of what I see when I look in the mirror.
And yes, I know that the future is blank
more blank than the moon on this starless night,
but the only way to write the future
is to use the utensils of the past.
I remember the past because
when faced with a choice before,
I have always snuck my way
into both decisions.
With precision, I am able to
cling to a compromise
like the green from your eyes
has clung so vibrantly to mine.
Everything I am,
every little piece of me,
broke that night
on the front porch of my house.
It was the night that neither of us knew
we were going to say goodbye
and God, I would give anything
to give that goodbye right back.
But instead, I must pick up the pieces
and reassemble them to let the puzzle
continue.
It’s difficult to be torn apart.
But the day I am whole will be the day I learn
how to say goodbye to everyone who has told me
what I need to hold myself together.
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