Rejection

Dear past interest,

I remember how we strode together with the luster on our boots chortling into the wind

And afternoon breeze, down the blotched brick road; With the usual lean to my right to match your height, my hand clasped yours and your eyes followed.

The gales would creep past your cheeks lifting the curls of your pale hair weightless behind you, caressing my hand with the moment’s sensation,

And you would point to my awestruck face, turning scarlet as it met yours.

The hinges of my vision danced into the mist of

the past with every one of these,

storing but one more time, to play against oblivion in the endless tug-of-war of

my insatiable experience.

“Shall I leave you now?” you asked, amber-eyed, with the

distinct half-smile that left my heart leaden

with the heat of a solstice throbbing against my throat with the floodgates of my reticence twigs from explosion.

My hand stretched out holding yours lightly before distance precluded our touch,

And you looked back,

and I winced.

All of you glistened, with mellow white light, as you cupped your hands around the majesty of a dress you blew into nature’s laws upon turning away from me,

curling like linen bed sheets spread over a queen-sized bed.

I nodded cordially, ceremoniously, spuriously, Indignantly;

I Cast my shoes into the dust of the now dirt road,

incredulously, with quivering eyes,

trying not to take my gaze to any other place than off you,

The invisible strings that held you to me still giggling and humming in my ear ran their paths full.

This is my happiness, but it didn’t die alone.