I am missing him today.
I had forgotten him entirely,
or as much as he can be forgotten
robbed me of this
lack of memory.
Our life flashed before my eyes,
almost as movie-like as when it actually happened.
The familiar ache of remembered heartbreak
like it was projected from a tiny room in the back.
I don't want him playing Robert Redford
in the corners of my mind.
I want to remember his casual cruelty,
his inability to answer,
his selfishness and falsity and
that he did not love me.
I don't want to remember his
his good moments,
his taking of my breath
and my pain
But, there he is -
sleeping in a tiny room in the back -
arms and whispers and trust and,
Why can't I lose the echoes of joy
that rumble my ribcage
when I look back?
Why can't I shake the feeling of
his mouth on my palm?
Why can't chance lyrics bring me
places I have been
or the first reading of my favorite book
or nights filled with too many stars to count?
Today they bring me him.
And I am missing him today.
Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.