Letter to a love lost.

Sweet is the taste as I sip my
mead, like the taste of your lips used to taste
when I was still allowed to sample them.

Calm is what I found in this place like
the calm I used to find in your embrace back when I found I could
afford to take more than a greeting and farewell.

You gave me strength
not by listening
not by understanding
nor being there for me.
You just gave me strength, and peace, and comfort,
simply though the idea that you were mine and I was yours
and ‘we’ was something worthwhile.

Your gaze upon mine was my ecstasy
Your arms around me were my sedatives
Your voice in my ears was the hypnotizing music
that brought me childish dreams where we were old together and our
great-grandchildren had your lovely nose and my gold-blue eyes.
Oh, sweet music.

And I’d have given up part of who I am
yes, that part
if it meant we could live that dream.
And I would have changed my plans, adapted my future,
to give this ‘us’ a chance.
And I would have raced to cuddle up against you,
and whisper
‘6 months…’
into your ear, before you did the same
When we’d have reached half a year.

And I sip again from my sweet mead,
a rather poor replacement for your lips
to tell you what a naive idiot I’ve been.

And so again I find myself without companion on
my road to happiness.
Yet on I must go. And I might just make it, you’ll see.
Even if the highest mountains I must climb
and the stormiest oceans I must swim
and the hottest deserts I must cross
and mountains and oceans and deserts will never keep me from always
loving you
and as time goes by, part of me will always
though less as time goes by
but always, until I die
miss you.

Fare thee well, my lover. We won’t meet but in gaze and arms and voice and dreams.
Good bye to you, my friend. Much more real our next meeting will be.