More Than a Year

It's been more than a year since you left me.
You ought to be no more than just another
memory for me by now. And still, your absence
is all too often a present, pressing thing in my life.
For a very long time, I held on to these very
slender threads of hope - that one day you
would return - a knock on the door, and there
you would be, just loving me again.

It's strange to realize that my insanity of last
summer was really the easiest part of all this.
Inner silence... I still feel your vibrations,
painfully aware of what you've done, and
where you're at. You've convinced yourself
that by not contacting me at all, you are
somehow saving me from more pain.
You're wrong again (still). Your moments
of happiness are what confuse me the most
these days. They grow in increments
as time goes on. I wonder how long it will be,
before you really forget me completely.

The park, even now that another winter
has passed, still remembers you. I feel it
in the wind as it sweeps over the pond -
always questioning the absence of our love.
And I can't ignore the wind - I never could.
Even now, when I'm out driving, I'm amazed
at how many silver cars there are on the
streets around here these days. No one
in my family dares to mention your name
to me anymore. They can't bear to see
the pain still left inside of me.

I seldom even look into the room here
that once was yours. Even though I've
changed it all around and cleaned it,
there is still too much of you there.
And I avoid you in every way that I can,
so much as thinking of you there with her.
Yet you're still there, aren't you? With her.
Your chosen life so full of busyness
that you seldom take a moment to really
think of me at all.

You aren't and you haven't been feeling
love there, though. I know that too.
It seems you keep doing all that you can
to keep the feelings in your heart at bay,
as if they weren't really yours at all.
And it is this, that I will never understand.
For no matter which feelings you have,
they are real. It was one thing to consider
a short separation while you got your life there
in order and took care of the loose ends.

But it's been more than a year
since you left me...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2002 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...