Didn’t You Want a Poem?

I trace the contour of my naked hip, sinking into the sweet memory of being tasted, of being swallowed up. I speak the words out loud, to an empty room, reverberating questions without answers. This is where we went wrong. This is when you turned away. This is when I withheld. This is when you let me in, and this is when you didn’t. Now, I’m sitting in front of this blank page and none of the words come to me. I’m floating in a space where reality doesn’t touch me, and I know it well. This space kept me safe from the knowledge that you didn’t see me, and maybe you didn’t want to. Everything I planned to tell you has evaporated and what remains are contradictions. I choose emotions like a go fish game: do you have an anger card? I have nostalgia, please take it. Do you need safety? What about trust? I have two of regret, will you swap me for a joy? 

I examine the list of things that I appreciated about you. This list was made six months ago, before you would deliver a decision that made my body ache with longing for answers. Before I would search your face for regret. Before I would wrench a smile from the depths and nod with placation because if I cried, it meant that you were gone. I want to draw the emotions out of you like a magician pulls scarves from his mouth, one by one until they are displayed like trophies. Who are you when you are exposed? I didn’t say any of this when I had the opportunity because I couldn’t. And now I must. 

When I think of you, I wonder what your mind is up to and what new strategies you have built to silence it. Have you learned that the way you feel and what’s happening in your body are intertwined? Have you looked closely at the landscape of who you are? Do you know the cold, cruel parts of yourself? 

Didn’t you want a poem? This poem is about a man that I yearned to know. A man who awakened parts of me that were dormant. A man who tipped the scales with awareness and intent. A man that taught me to listen to that small, quiet voice speaking difficult truths. A man that I accepted could hurt me and despite that, I absorbed with abandon. A man that reminded me how full of life I am and that my fullness is not for everyone. A man whose best parts I wanted to fill myself with and whose ugly parts I wanted to believe wouldn’t touch me. A man that is holding everything together because he is afraid of what will happen if he lets the fissures open.

This poem is for you.