Your story
Our story
Came up
As a surprise conversation.
I revisited dusty corners
That I had thought were clean;
Opened boxes of
Faded pictures of memory that still
Held some color of recognition,
That still
Let me know
That still
This loss has been left ungrieved.
I have held you
Locked safe
In a deep well
Of still water,
Drawing you up from time to time,
But without all the pain.
Without the still sinking feeling of regret.
But it waited for me,
Still,
Like some stalking predator,
Lying still
In the grass, waiting
For some movement,
Some sign
That now is ripe,
Now is time
For the stillness
To be broken.
My lips formed the words
In fits and starts,
And my breath, slow and steady,
Pushed them away,
Even though I knew that still
The wound that still stung
Like it had been born yesterday
Bled from beneath that still
Surface.
Still pools formed in my eyes,
And the rivers flowed
Like tears.
The you that was still
In me
Became real again,
Even though I knew
It was still a lie
To believe that what once was dead
Could still live.
I still have a shred of your ghost,
Which I fear will meet the real you someday.
And all will be lost.
All which was hidden will be revealed,
All which was closed will open,
All that has lived, that has survived,
Will die.
It will hit me with the cold
Weight of time,
And I will stand still
Waiting for it all to begin
Its end.
And yet,
I still know that even as
I fear it,
I still wait for that day.
Still not knowing why.
Still knowing that when your face meets mine
You will see that I am
Still...
Yes.
