It was not easy to say
It was not easy to say;
it had never been when the sun was
setting and the train tracks were
void of trains and the streets heavy with headlights
and coffee mugs sat before both of them, chilling
to undrinkable temperatures
and he sough for words he knew
were not specific enough
but had to be said.
So he said it:
I can not be responsible for the broken things
you carry inside your eyes. I can not fix them, either;
I can not carry them for you.
When I look at you there are maps
on the walls of my head – auburn peninsulas
and mountain ranges, roads that curl
like your hair, lakes we always wanted
to swim in: the places we could see together
are at the end of the ocean. But our sea-faring
is a lie. And I am not ready to tell you one.
So when I go today, I go knowing that you are
too strong to chase me and too smart to want to.
We are not to go anywhere together any longer,
and I know I will be sad and you will too but
it will pass. I am sorry about nothing; we have
done nothing wrong. I only regret there are
places that will never see us standing side by side.
