Desperate

A desperate attempt

to make poetry out of you.

We greet each other like strangers.

We have nothing to discuss,

outside of what happened to us.

Tired of discussions

that turn into arguments

“about what was done right

and what was done wrong.”

We barely speak

or see each other as “home.”

I promise you

that I have searched

            and searched all night

trying to recall the words

I used to describe you

            when we first met.

Believing that maybe those words

would help me get

     that feeling of love back.

I questioned how

            I framed your eyes,

                      your laughter

                        and understanding of me.

  

 Because I can remember poetry

being written just for you.

Here I am now

with little recollection

of you ever loving me.

I am asking for forgiveness:

forgiveness for not fighting

to keep you or trying

to get you to return.

My heart has grown weary

            and I realize that even

                        love sometimes moves on.

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