Email Poem

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Poem
How foolish am I?!?
YEARS beyond our sad end.
Multiple relationships past the
Joy of all that we shared and were,
I doubt I even (fleetingly) enter your mind,
Let alone time the cadence of your heart to mine,
Or polish the gold memories in your pocket, as I do.
What an absurdly pathetic and commiserative fool I am!!
I still find myself, on more occasions than I hate to (begrudgingly)
Admit, not only pining away in the night about how the sad moonbeams
Through my window connect me to you in some odd, existential sort of way,
Or sitting on the beach at the ocean, casually writing little messages in
The sand that you'll never, ever see, but ALSO writing you poems!
And songs! And even Letters and emails that I'll never send,
Though I spend FAR too long making sure they're JUST
RIGHT. What the hell is wrong with me?? It's been
A decade-and-a-half since you so lovingly
"Dear John"-ed me on my birthday,
(Our kids nearby so I wouldn't
Make a scene - I wouldn't
Have ANYway) ...

Inside my birthday
Card, at that ... my damn
BIRTHDAY card!! Gotta say,
That was pretty freakin' cold, and I
Would never have pegged you to be so
Heartless. I thought I knew you - thought I knew
You better than anyone, so many deep, dark secrets
We shared, or discovered - but it seems you hid that brutal
Side away from me, and saved it for that last, keen, cutting farewell.
The joke was on me, (and I sometimes imagine you laughing at the whole
Cold birthday card "Dear John" thing with your friends ... "Oh, you should've
SEEN his face - turned a hundred shades, then white! But what could he
SAY?!? It was a birthday party, for chrissakes!! Oh, my god what a
Hilarious joke!!") ... Yeah, that really was a stroke of icy cold
Breakup genius, I must admit. I wonder if it was your
Idea, or if one of your treasured friends or family
Came up with it? Doesn't matter now, does
It? And it doesn't matter that I still
Care. And it doesn't matter
That I waste time ...

Perfectly good time,
Writing poems for
Someone who's a
Ghost ... things is,
I'M the goddam
Ghost ... a sad,
Sorry apparition,
Slowly but surely
Disapparating into
Nothingness, and
Happy to do so, to
Carry this damn pain
To my sacred oblivion ...
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