When I met you, I thought you were the one. I thought our name had been carved in sun. I craved the music of your voice, the symphony of our hands intertwined. You and me would become this we…this powerful force of poetry, politics, music, light and laughter.
There was a sweetness in this…in us. Your good morning’s fueled 10,000 summers. Your goodnights lulled me to a sleep drunk with calm and easy. Tomorrows spent with you couldn’t come sooner… today’s spent with you were too short. You spoke of happily ever after’s. I almost believed you. I almost loved you.
But there were the subtle changes…the subtle ways you showed me who you are, but I refused to believe you. The showing up late. The not showing up at all. The excuses. I don’t know which excuses were worse--the ones you gave or the ones I made. The blatant disregard for my time, and person. But I wanted to believe the best about you-even when warned not too. They told me you were all charm no substance. But, I held on to this thing between us because I believed in our beauty and possibility. I believed in you…And because, hey- bad boy’s have their appeal.
I liked you assiduously for two months and 3 days. Head spinning/spaced out/face grinning kind of like. But here’s the suicide haiku to whatever existed between us:
The burden of we/
I can no longer carry/
On the back of me
Ashe. I can no longer swallow your indifference-or my pride. Allow me to paraphrase the colored girls who moved towards their own rainbows:
My love is too whole
Too Paris magic
Too Sade soulful
Lauryn Hill educated
Boys II Men passionate
To be thrown back in my face.
So take your life back, minus me, and what that equals=a loss. Take my forgiveness...unsolicited, yes..but given nonetheless.
And I am free…