Wednesday, September 24, 2014

And I understand that

I will never know whether
finally, your going away,
was the cause or the
consequence of my fear
that, one day, you would.
I spent days thinking that,
little knowing, those days
and nights of little knowing,
and I don't, even today,
want to be accountable for
the loss, not be asked the
why or the how of it, as
if I had willed it on me
- what could be worse - as
if I had dealt a bad hand,
as if I could have asked
the teller. I played it all
- you know it better than
any - on quicksand, and
love's going away was,
like death, it had to happen,
no matter how much we try
- we all think we won't
till the day we die.

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