Was this—

The only way you could find?

Was this—

Really worth it?

You say so, repeatedly

But I do not

Even pretend to listen.

Staring into nothing—

Listening to the residual whispers

Of loneliness…

Almost, half-

Wishing

It would reclaim me

Tear me away from you

From everything.

Ah, so is this

But cowardice?

Too beautiful, too harshly perfect

Liking staring at the sun—

I must turn away—

Must immediately destroy

That which is too good to last—

Too obviously doomed to die.

Was this the only way?

You could have had my love

Without having me…

Why did you not take it then?

Why were things so altered—

Over something so small

As myself?

Would any other way

Have worked?

I cannot say; now it is too late to learn

Too many bridges have been burned

And it is hard to justify anything but the cause

For which they were destroyed

As I stare, still disbelievingly

At the still-warm ashes.

Any other way—

Oh, but would, could I have tried?

Could I will myself away again?—

Somehow suppressing

All that I have never been able to control—

Would that I could

Look into your eyes—

And not feel a love as deep as despair—

Would that I could

Turn my back

And not yearn for you to kiss it—

How many times must I damn myself?—

Denied, and denying

No, I cannot love you—

Without having some part of my soul

Torn to pieces.

This day one part, the next,

Another

And I cannot help but wonder

As I look at you, from where I sit—

Lost, adrift, somewhere in the wide

Yet easily-traveled

Gulf between ecstasy and despair—

Whether it is in any way the same for you.

I hope, pray not—

To add more despair to your heart

To call your promises lies

And question everything, yet

There are some things I cannot help

And others, still,

Which seem so far removed from reality—

I cannot half-understand them…