On the day we met, we were damaged.
Bruised fruit, I heard someone say,
and yet I could see how delicious
we could be, if we focused
on our sweet parts. And, for a time, we did.
Each morning after coffee and canned peaches, we
paced the perimeter,
with each step I learned more about
the nature of your heart. So broken,
both of us, there, in captivity,
love-notes, plopped clumsily
into my hands, your lap,
the perfect place for a head to rest,
if only we could have tabled together, found a patch of green
under that hot Arizona sun.
At least we had popcorn and iced tea,
that one full moon,
when our bellies pressed
against each other, gleaming
side by side. That night, I imagined
eating chocolate animal crackers
on Wednesdays
the sifting sun
through your windows
an old denim couch
in an endless summer, the two of us
cool and cuddled for hours
back rubs on bad days
when you would kiss
the freckles on my shoulders.
Now look at us.
Me, a shadow in your life:
A lonely girl on a lonely journey
In a land peopled by strangers.
I could be holding your dusty hand
Laughing and loving so greatly
But you asked me to let you go
And not wanting to violate
your boundaries, I did.
Still, I can’t help hoping
That someday I’ll convince you
It’s better to enjoy one bruised piece of fruit,
Than no sweetness at all.
Did you ever have an unrequited romance? Do you still think of that person? That moment? How long has it been? And how do you let it go?
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renée a. schuls-jacobson 