I’ll never know
if I hide below
if I never go
beyond the flow.
You open up before me
a gulf of possibility
things I never considered
complications I did not foresee.
a black hole of opportunity
creating alternative realities
of what my future might be.
(“Thanks, Des,” she says
dripping with irony.)
I told you
I’d love you forever
You told me you loved me
and we’d be friends forever.
I meant every deluded nuance.
You figured optimism works out
but you also said you couldn’t answer
to what would happen if I snuck into your room
and you woke to my face hovering above you.
That intriguing notion made me giggle at the joke.
But you kept your door locked, just in case.
Did you hear the door knob rattle?
Then the plane took off,
without me hiding in your luggage
as you’d suggested I could.
Our next phone call clarified
the kindness of lies.
and the length reality stretches
to cling to an illusion.
I’ve been grateful for
the elasticity of spurious delusion
every day of my life.
I craft my reality in my imagination:
You are whoever I make you to be.
Do I cover you with armour?
Compel piano mastery?
Some loves last through time:
mythical love need not be mocked.
What you hear, is never what truly was.
It’s what was crafted to tell the tale that needed to be told.
You are a character in the love story,
and I can always kill you off in
Shape poem of a chess piece. Clear? Metaphor of the game. Get it?
just for today
you dared to do
that thing you fear?
wanted to say no,
you opened yourself
today was the day
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Shawn Bird is an author, poet, and educator in the beautiful Shuswap region of British Columbia, Canada. She is a proud member of Rotary.
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