A little poetry about love that never even got to become love...
I think it's more frustrating, not to say devastating, to lose someone you never knew if you could have loved...left with the emptiness such an ending induces...it's frustrating because you're left with 10 000 questions about how it might have been...and perhaps it would have been better to be dumped for a reason, and that the love actually came to an end? Then, at least you would have memories of a love that existed, that was real and that affected two people to such an extent, they might grieve over the loss of it...
For as we all know; the world is nothing without love. Love is all around, all you need is love, love lifts us up where we belong; love is all, lalala, shine a light on me...
"gentleman's departure"
by scaramouche, the po(t)et
in a melancholy/philosophical mood
waking up to the sight of a gentleman's back before me
broad and with contours of muscles under golden skin
slowly turning, at the sensing of my movement behind him
giving a slight and wry good morning-smile
combing my hair, looking at a gentleman's back in the mirror
fixing his shirt and getting dressed, getting ready for the day
slowly picking up his shoes, steady movements, all so habitual
greeting me farewell with a wry look and a nod
then seeing a gentleman's back leaving, soon out of sight
just for a moment, can't believe it was over so quickly
almost as if it never happened, I'm still caught in a dream
later waking to see his bright eyes, blinking again
no, I'm arising from an empty bed, tomorrow
no, I haven't got any pictures to keep for memories
no, the only thing that lingers is the scent, for a while
and the knowledge, the bitter knowledge
knowing I've been hurt before
and knowing I'll be hurt again
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