by Richard Vince
Back then I didn't understand what it was
About me that you could possibly have loved...
I just hoped that it was more than just the way
That I spelled or pronounced certain words,
In the same way that I hoped my love for you
Was based on more than your height, or
How privileged I felt that you talked to me at all.
Your reasons still mystify me now, which is
Probably part of the reason that I write so much
About you, and about the way that I never
Got a grip on how you really felt or
Why you felt that way.
Perhaps one day I will actually ask you,
And see if you can remember back all that time,
To two years and countless heartbreaks ago.
I even wonder whether you even had an idea
Of how much I loved you and longed for you,
And how many times you melted from my heart
The frost of another cold morning, with the fire
Of your astonishingly beautiful sunset
As I felt your smile in the words that you sent me.
Another unsolved mystery is what happened
To that letter you wrote to me, and the words
...perhaps if it had reached me,
Everything would have been different;
I could at last have touched something
That had for a short time been in your hands.
I would ask you what you said
If I thought that you could remember.
Your words, however, are things I will never forget;
Indeed, I still remember some of the words
I sent blindly towards you, like soldiers
Deployed into a fogbound battlefield
More in hope than expectation.
I will also remember the coldness
With which I discarded you, and moved
Onto a newer layer of skin.
Posted on 07/11/2002
Copyright © 2019 Richard Vince