Nothing Else.

This is my humanity;
whittled lovingly to a sharp point,
It’s edges bursting forward off the
page and once again here we are, slow dancing
with your hands on- someone else’s waist.
My tired body sitting facing a mirrored reflection
of a girl who looks like a sizzled mess-
dejection a screw painfully forced
into each wrist like those immortal wounds.
I’m sorry.
I promised I’d stop.

but -
Tell me it was for the pining-
Nothing else.

That you didn’t turn to her because my insight
was a distorted railway line
crashing into you.
That my wanting was something you wanted-
But to want is not always enough to hold
between your hands, not to let it slip
like water falling through
each chasm between your fingertips.

Tell me it was for the ease-
Nothing else.
That she was something to hold when
the bland summers rise and once again
love is something you can no longer trace your veins
to sail back home too.

I adore in shades of jade and mahogany;
all shades that always seemed wrong.

Don’t laugh -
but I thought you were –
Don’t laugh -
One of those people I could -
Don’t laugh -
hold between finger and thumb so you can
feel the pulse –
Don’t laugh -
But it will always be you until one of us
forgets and –
Don’t laugh -
Don’t forget.

It’s hard not to see the end as something we can jump so easily
back from…

Tell me it was for the pining -
Nothing else.
That you simply needed to fill something,
of which everyone else had left empty.