We Two Poets

by Aaron Blair

The last time I saw him,
it was a light in the darkness,
mine and his, our matching set,
the thing that drove us together.

We were two poets, memorizing
each other's faces for the lines
we'd put down later, memorizing
each other's bodies for the lines
we'd trace later, on blank skin.

I was not seeing him as some old house,
an empty space to fix up and move into.
I would never paint pictures on his
bare walls. I knew he'd never let me
get that close. He knew, too, that I
was beyond repair, and there was some
joy in that, two broken things, not
trying to fit their jagged edges together.

Then the light went out, and I couldn't
see him anymore, so it was over. Back to our
respective black spaces, we retreated,
not even bothering to fumble for each other.
Some things are bound to be lost, and
we knew, so, too, are some people.


Author's Note: I wrote this for the writing.com slam, the prompt being write a poem staring with "the last time I saw him/her," but I didn't enter this one. It's about me and Jonathan, so if you didn't know, now you know.

Posted on 02/20/2004
Copyright © 2023 Aaron Blair

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Maureen Glaude on 02/20/04 at 02:21 PM

haunting and so relatable. Beautiful, sad but with a knowledge there was beauty before the inevitable loss.

Posted by Kristine Briese on 04/17/04 at 05:15 PM

How did I manage to miss this? Wonderful, as always, but this is one of my new favorites.

Posted by Tony Whitaker on 01/16/11 at 09:06 AM

What ever happened to you Aaron? I use to read all your pieces. You write in such an original, cutting-edge" style. I always like reading your work and we need to see you back here on a regular basis!

Posted by Angie Jenkins on 11/17/11 at 06:38 AM

I've absolutely been in that situation before. You described it perfectly! This is fantastic.

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