These decisions, that stand so
strongly in between us now, I need
for you understand that they are
based on emotion; for emotion
is the base and strength of every
value ever lived. And yet it seems
to me that still, you cannot
grasp or understand the intimate
significance of what you really feel
and thus express to me.

You made your choices, based
on that, a strength of emotion that
ran fleetingly through you - no matter
where it came from, no matter that
you never took the time to understand
its roots. Itís become no more than
yours or mine, with nothing in between,
according to divisions you so
earnestly felt you needed to make,
and these great emotions run now
through such separated veins, that
it seems as if Iíd never really been
with you at all; not in this way.

Where once we stood in strength of
love together; now the path is forked
and we move on, further and yet
further from each other in each
moment that now comes to pass,
and passing, passes us by too, still
moving on to yet another place
and face and space and time in
every motion of the vagrant wind.

I canít help but wonder then, what
purpose this will ever serve, this
love, this loss; the solitary mood of
your depression, that comes to me
upon the wind each time I think of you.
You seem to choose to just keep busy;
involved with any other thing you find
that does not remind you of me, or of
those moments that we shared so
intimately together for a while.

You call once in a while, you write
sporadically, yet still you really havenít
one true thing to say to me, that might
address the stress you have created.
And so we do not heal, nor mend,
for you hold too much inside unmoving,
and therefore left unmoved by you.
You cling to memories of better days,
yet even the brightest of memories fade
into the distance spanning in between
what was and what will come to be; and
it still grows in increments, larger than
you seem to think exist.

I feel a vastness lying between us,
continually recreating itself these days;
a mighty void in its capacity to bleed
the meaningful from much of what
I do and say; as if some essential
element is missing from my life,
and I am slowly fading into mist.
For all that I believed, became the love
I felt for you; and you have disappeared,
as if each experience of you were now
no more than just of fantasy, created
merely of imagination.

Yet even inspiration needs a kindling
kind of fire to live on; and fuel to feed
the flames of its existence into greater
being, and youíve left me barely with
an ember glowing now. This mourning
lies too heavy in the air, itís hard to breathe;
much harder at those times you take
to really think of me Ė still only in a memory
that whispers now of never really meant
to be at all. For your conviction has
evaporated, at every point where we
might meet again; except in this Ė the feel
of grief that you still bear in this continuance
of the division your decisions brought to be...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...