I am breaking your heart


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Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

~ Excerpt from “If You Forget Me” by Pablo Neruda

I sit with blood, and I am tender. I really see the moon tonight; half out, half dark. I keep the glass door closed, though I want it open. I am cold, and I ache.

I know this will be another night she kicks me, my long-legged dog who sheds too much and insists on sharing my bed. Her dreams and her heat will make me throw off my socks and sweatshirt, or fall out and move to the cold pillow on the other side.

But I’ve gotten used to her, this shared intimacy with no strings and no words. I’ve gotten used to her long body, and she is comforting.

And when she is gone, she will be gone. I don’t usually grieve too long.

My friend says that people come and go, that who is in your life always changes. But when they go, I sit in heartbreak.

I watched my old friend cross a city street the other day, and I stared at him begging him to see me. But he’s all up in his own head, so I hung my own and kept walking.

The single butterfly, the baby dragonfly. So tender when they appear their wings are like silent breaths, tears. They visit, then disappear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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