Misplaced

I've grown accustomed
to you leaving.
it's to the point where I don't
notice that all I tend to see
is your back as you walk away.
Maybe because I prefer to
be able to breathe easy -
something I seem to have trouble with
when you're around.

I don't see why this time
has to feel different.
My one comfort in your leaving
was that you always came back.
Are you planning on returning
this time?

I can't say as I'd miss you
if you didn't.

I think you thought that I
was something I couldn't really be.
And I played the part
for far too long.
My case of mistaken identity
was the sole cause
of your case
of misplaced passions.

We never could have made it
in the Real World.

I won't make you bother
with the niceties.
We're far moved beyond that.
Just tell me like it is
no more cover ups.
No more pretenses.

I've grown accustomed
to you leaving.
There will be no tug
on my heartstrings
as you hug me goodbye.
There will be no tears
as you start up your car
and wave at me.
And there will certainly
be no regrets
as I stand outside
and watch you drive away.

Thank God for small favors.
Because at least you took
you misplaced love
with you.

copyright 2009 S. Sieglaff