For years
I looked at my pupils in the mirror
saying your name
to see if they still dilated.
For years.
And when they finally stopped,
I still had a hole inside me.
For years I tried to forget your name,
wouldn’t taste it on my tongue
or repeat it if spoken by another.
For years.
How I wished to unlove you,
feeling you walk around inside my heart,
seeing you walk around outside it
when you had found others to replace me,
while I just simply was not over you.
It wasn’t until I’d had his hands on me
for months
and until I got pregnant—that life
was the love that finally pushed
you out of the place I’d given you.
Years can go by now
and I don’t think of you,
but every now and then
I dream of you,
and every time,
you’re cold, unreachable, blank—
like the last time we spoke
after we both had moved on,
when we met
and I had coffee
and you had none,
looking at me in icy blue.
Why did you even invite me?
Perhaps I will never know.
And so, I hope this poem
speaks the words
I’ve never been able to say.
I hope it is closure
of a good kind
for me,
even if you never read it.
This poem is meant to say,
I loved you.
I remember you loved me.
We had so many good shared experiences,
too, despite the crumbling.
I’m proud of what I know of you,
what I’ve heard about your life,
which isn’t all that much.
But I want your every success,
am truly happy for your happiness,
as you’ve had it.
I am rooting for you in everything.
That’s love, you know.
And maybe that’s what that last
meet-up was meant to show me.
My hands cupped a dove, warm,
with an olive branch extending toward you,
while yours held a wintry glare to blind
the unsuspecting just trying
to move forward on a slippery road.
So, here’s to my forgetfulness,
because,
though I don’t think of you often,
when I do,
when I take the time
to remember,
despite the years,
it hurts,
still.
A sort of epistolary poem for Dora’s “Despite and Still” challenge at dVerse, which I am way too late for linking to, and for “Forgetfulness” at What’s Going On?
What a touching an honest poem - Jae
ReplyDeletethough I don’t think of you often, / when I do, / when I take the time /
ReplyDeleteto remember.... we never fully forget...it may still hurt..but eventually it will stop mattering...hope this poem is the good closure you want.
What a poignant exploration of love, loss, and the quiet strength in letting go, even as the heart still feels the weight of what once was. Beautiful poem, Jennifer.
ReplyDeleteIt's not often I react so viscerally to a poem. When I finished reading, Jennifer, I felt it in my gut it felt so familiar, the "dove, warm,/with an olive branch extending toward you" met with "a wintry glare," the heart's generous benediction that continues to prevail, and the searingly honest confession, "it hurts,/still." Some memories will do that. And some poems, like this one, lay bare the wound, in some measure perhaps to heal, exposed to the sunlight of our unflinching examination.
ReplyDeleteI know this feeling, offering pure love and being met with cold eyes. Nevertheless, the gift was a fine one that you offered, he just didnt recognize its worth. A beautiful poignant poem, Jennifer.
ReplyDeleteI hope you find peace of mind with this. It is so hard loving someone who can't respond in the ways we need. Cherish the love that is real and strong in your life now. All the best. Suzanne - Wayfaring - Wordpress blog.
ReplyDelete"looking at me in icy blue." .....Handling such scorn and despise needs much grit. The hurt is overpowered by the calm acceptance of the speaker. A powerful poem, Jennifer. So lovely to see you today.
ReplyDeleteJoni Mitchell sang, "It seems such a shame, we start out so kind just to end so heartlessly." It always seems to go that way though. I used to be known for my love poems, but I don't write them anymore. The kind of lingering thorn in the heart that you describe here is a hurt that is hard to reconcile.
ReplyDeleteOh, Jennifer, I can really feel this poem! I have had such an experience too. I don't think of it often, but when I do it hurts....I think because there were so many unanswered questions. I have moved on. I do'nt love anymore, but I can't forget that I once did. Your poem was one I could identify with fully.....
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautiful, Jennifer. So utterly bittersweet, moving and beautiful. I had tears in my eyes by the end. I can't quote a favourite line, I just loved the whole thing 🩷
ReplyDeleteI can truly feel this poem. It reminds me of a line in movie "we both know I need to fall out of love with you" - one can move on but the embers of love remain in those silent moments of remembrance. Love can be bittersweet indeed.
ReplyDelete"My hands cupped a dove, warm,
ReplyDeletewith an olive branch extending toward you,"
Yet when coldness is the answer, forgetting is a most useful tool. I've taken the journey you lay out so beautifully in this poem to the point that I can remember bits and pieces fondly. No one I loved is totally gone.
"My hands cupped a dove, warm,
ReplyDeletewith an olive branch extending toward you,
while yours held a wintry glare to blind
the unsuspecting just trying
to move forward on a slippery road."
Perfect imagery in this bittersweet poem, Jennifer.