Fog of Memory

A Poem

Photo by Peter Forster on Unsplash

do you ever think about that summer
when we had it all at our fingertips —
and then you let go and let me fall
into a life doomed to be without you?

you could have told me pretty lies,
but you didn’t allow that kind of grace
because you thought ripping the band-aid
was just what I needed and deserved.

the scar doesn’t sting anymore,
now that all these years have gone by —
but I still press my fingertips
against the memory of that wound

and I remember what it was like
to bleed and bleed all alone.

do you ever think about that last kiss
underneath your backyard tree —
or am I the only one left standing still
in that glimpse of a day so long ago?

you could have left me with hope —
maybe someday you’d change your mind —
but you told me with no uncertainty
that you were leaving and never coming back.