[Poetry Submission II] Ephemeral

When I look back on my past relationships,

Almost like works of art in a museum,

Most are with a sense of regret.

The ones that aren’t cased behind glass

In case my heart wants to touch them again.

It’s not the kind of regret like,

“Oh, I dated THAT?”

But more of a,

“That was a mistake. I wasted time.”

Kind of regret.

The kind that doesn’t fade easily.

Those paint-on-canvas relationships

Doused in chiaroscuro.

And the worst relationship,

Not encased in a room with clean white walls

But trapped in a stairwell

Surrounded by thorns

And locked from inside.

All the short ones

Pass by inconsequentially.

My heart doesn’t stop and ponder.

If I could walk through this museum,

I would look at each, examine them.

I would wade past the songs that are tainted

I would peer through the memories that will fade

I would look past the fleeting false feelings

I would notice what each one was, truly was

At its heart.

One in particular would stand out.

One in particular I would jerk the

Handle on the door, madly,

And beat on the glass with

The manic energy of a man possessed

How could you do this to me how could i

Have done this to myself

What could have taken your conscience

So thoroughly that you would have –

That you did –

That you –

Why did you –

I would not walk silently from that exhibit.

I would be – removed.

They would toss me out on the street.

And I would take a moment,

Shoulders slumped, breathing heavy,

Standing at the entrance to the

Monument of my past failures.

And I would turn around.

And I would walk on.