You didn’t want me
I wanted you
As well you know
You didn’t love me – never could
And even though
I hoped you would
Or dreamed you might…
…I had no fight.
I could not stay
And could not say
I loved you when
You didn’t wish to hear it…
…Because you always feared it.
But this I know: Our letting go
Might hurt our hearts hereafter
But living without love?
We just averted a disaster.
My wasted heart it knew not how to beat;
Instead it chose a terminating pulse;
Preparing to give up, it did retreat
From many tests with negative results.
My poorly heart it wanted to be killed;
Survival was no life with half a heart;
As slowing beats left passions unfulfilled,
So love was paused, no reason to restart.
My dying heart gave up on love at last,
Content without contentment, time to go;
Defibrillation banned, all hopes were dashed;
When love appeared and spoke so I would know:
There’s no more flatlines, no more giving in;
For next to mine, a new heart: shaped like him.
He speaks to me respectfully, t’is true;
With words so fresh and sweet, unlike the rest;
He does not send me images of blue;
His heart be pure, to that I can attest.
He asks about my day, about my life;
With sentiment of pure and truthful care;
He does not ask for things that are unright;
His soul be calm and tender over there.
He looks at me: both eyes are shaped like hearts;
With visions of one future we’re both in;
He does not see me as a sep’rate part;
His mind be seeking starstuff, equal kin.
For years I was a book upon a shelf;
Yet now I read his words and read myself.
I could not warm the sadness of his heart
Despite the heat of promises within
And whilst I miss him now that we’re apart
I wonder if he thinks the things I think.
Perhaps he has imaginings like me
Where physical perfection lasts all night;
And maybe there was more for me to see;
There’s definitely more for me to write.
If I could do things diff’rently, I would
Erase my words and tempers ‘cross the miles;
Alas, I only spoke the things I should;
Not leaving room for humour there – or smiles.
If words be feelings, may I never write;
For I shall speak within, and stay polite.