It was as if, when the condoms ran out, there was nothing left of me for him. But then, I thought I was imagining things. Maybe he grasped my hand so tightly on the bus because he wanted to convince himself differently. I keep thinking, why couldn't he? I did. I convinced myself of him. I'm sorry. I'm just trying to figure out where my power goes when it leaves so suddenly without shutting the door. Where did I go between being his dream and being his past? What more could I be? I am a universe the size of a pea. I am low hanging limb of fruit tree. I am a womb and a white light. The moon, the limestone that shimmers in the sidewalk he walks on. I am the kitten that purrs against him and the cigarette he smokes. I am the songs I played him and the words I gave and the lips he kissed. How could he want more? I am burning down the fiery state hotel, one room at a time. My sweet boy, I'll show you the life of the mind.
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"O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; 'O Johnny, let's play':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
'Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver and golden silk gown;
'O John I'm in heaven,' I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away"
-W.H. Auden
If it doesn't quite get better, it at least gets... different. More distant, I guess. You don't forget. but it kind of blurs into the haze of history.
If it's any consolation whatsoever, you write beautifully. I hope soon that your poetry finds a warmer, happier place to bloom. I know it will.
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