Thursday, February 24, 2011

there are no psychics this time

it was cheaply made, purplish-green
ring with adjustable wire
kindergarten love
a present from his bashful smile.
i kept it
but i couldn't see any sort of future

simple stuffed animal
green with brown spots, a gator
i graced it with his name
it was seventh grade;
i knew nothing of love.
i still have it
but i couldn't mold our future.

it was platinum, a full carat
meant to last forever -
three years, and a bitter memory.
i wanted it to last so desperately,
but i gave it back.
i couldn't hide the fact that
we had no future

practical, black with straps
perfect to nestle my camera in -
he gave this, and a smile
brown eyes and gentle hands
it was just a beginning.
i knew too much of love, but
couldn't begin to know the acrid future.

i drove a green camaro,
he a mustang, black,
filled with dark music and
anger and manipulation.
i still stayed for over a year
and when i broke us, i broke
my sense of self, for years -
but somehow i had a brighter future

they came as a pair
and a dirty mattress
a relief in air-conditioning
in the stifling air after katrina
a hot mess of trio
she, angry
and he and i terribly,
horribly in love -
and i, knowing the end
before it began,
i moved 3,000 miles away.
i killed our future.

we had a home
25 foot ceilings, a loft
where we shared a bed
his limbs all over mine,
closer than anyone else
would ever get.
he tore me out
from the roots
slowly, piece by piece
for over a year.
he obliterated our future

he gave me a rocking bench
a rose bush -
dragged me out of the hole
the previous man
had dug.
he is solid, kind
and i have no idea what
to do with that,
so i have no idea
what the fuck
the future will be this time.

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