One More Time
when I deleted
your messages
it was not me
deleting you;
that I still
see your eyes
and remember
your words
and feel your hands
and lips
and body, still
smell
the smell of
you on my couch.
That I wish we
had one last
pleasant moment
after the pain,
that we could
have spoken
words of
closure, that I
could reach
back and show
you why I did
what I did,
and it wasn’t because
of you
but what others
have done
to me that
broke and scarred
who I am today,
that I am
trying, that you
matter to me,
that I believed
what you
said and I
thought we were
headed
somewhere other than
off a dead-end
cliff,
that when I
didn’t hear from
you it felt as
though you had
disposed of me
and that I
was garbage to
you, and now
when we see
each other you
will act as if
we are
strangers, that
I meant
and mean
nothing to you.
I want to tell
you in the quiet
when it is only
us two
that I am
sorry, oh, just
one more time,
to see you
and tell you to
your face—
I still care, I’m
still here,
I still miss
you—
each and every
blessed day.
Tansy Julie the
Soaring Eagle Paschold
12.17.23
Lovely.
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