I know that you say that you are not running,
but I have seen your back,
the way distance makes you shrink
until you no longer even exist.
Fear propels you forward,
the ability to fight or fly,
but you have no armor and your hands
never learned how to make a fist.
I have, and I am shaking mine
at your disappearing form,
at the sun turning you into a shadow
and boiling the tears in my eyes down to salt.

I know that you say that you are not running,
but you were never even here, so it seems, now
that your body aches to join the rest of you
in whatever place it was where you hid
the best parts of yourself from me, guarded stingily.

I know that you say that you are not running,
but you are a liar and not a very good one.
You are running because you know that I will not chase you,
that I have never even remotely deserved you,
and that the gravity of my unworthiness
is heavier than anything, and roots me to this spot.

05/14/2011

Author's Note: For the poetry contest.

Posted on 05/14/2011
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair