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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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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