Not a Lover
She took a puff from her cigar, passed it to him,
Rubbing her lips together, as she inhaled the misery in.
Some fade in memories, but she stains it,
who burns her silhouette into a room.
Too alive to ever stay gone. Too much color for her lovers
Too free to be a vivid picture, To be framed in their minds.
She said calmly:
- I told you I’m not a lover,
not a partner, and yet you asked me to stay,
to fill your kitchen with noise, Make a life, to be a wife,
though you knew I wouldn't stay long enough
to even carry your child.
A tear slipped down his cheek. He took a slow drag and passed the cigar back.
+ You told me you’d leave,
not at five a.m., not before dawn
leaving me there thinking, I’d wake up still holding you tight.
But I woke to an empty space, No wrinkle on the pillow,
like you were never even there.
One cup in the sink.
The ashtray emptied,
no burnt ends, no lipstick on the rim
Like I made you up,
like I stayed up and smoked alone the whole damn night.
She looked him in the eye
like he was the only soul alive
- With better furniture, Your walls still felt like a cage
You hold me too tight, love caught the flame, then turned to rage..
He cut her right there. With his eyes wide open , he only whispered:
+ what else can I do, When you want me to leave you all alone in the blue?
I never wanted you to stay
I wanted you to touch my thoughts, To feel my soul
To embrace my heart as your own.
You look in my eyes , like l’m the only one alive.
She pulled his face close, Held it with two hands
- I’m just a memory you think about once in a while.
I was only here to remind you how it feels to be alive.
Now You have to let me go, Let me be.
Find a lover who grow their roots in your heart
Who doesn't leave and clean any trace of their presence in your mind
Who wakes you up before dawn
Who shares your cigar
sits next to you, and watches the rise of the sun.
The smoke rose between them
a ghost of warmth, a soft goodbye that didn’t need to speak
He wanted to say something, but the words burned out on his tongue.
She smiled, the kind that knows it hurts and does it anyway.
- You’ll forget my voice first, then the way I said your name.
You’ll keep the silence, maybe the scent, and maybe, on bad nights, you’ll still light one for me.
She flicked her cigarette and let the smoke die. The ash fell slow, the air too still to move it..
The sun climbed up through the blinds, striping gold across the floor, catching her in one last flash of color.
Copyright ©
Rez Ama | Year Posted 2025
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