M.R.
when, at last, will I stop
forgetting how to breathe
the moment you appear,
when will your name
roll off my tongue
like any other name,
when will I learn
to stand still under your kiss,
without my spine catching fire,
when will I stop
finding you behind every thought,
stop dressing up hope
and calling it truth,
when will I finally let go –
not just in theory,
but really let you go…
let your hand slip from mine,
let my lips touch your cheek
one last time,
the last time I say
“drive safe”
like I don’t mean “come back…”
and when that happens –
when I let you go
and mean it –
that’s when the whole thing ends:
my house of cards will collapse,
my sugar-spun city will melt,
the tide will wash away my sandcastle…
and my heart –
tired, faithful, fool heart –
finally, finally
falls silent.