A Cruel 180



You had me at apple picking,

Or maybe it was the deviled eggs

Whatever bite it was,

the point is, you had me


I know you don’t believe it,

(Pass the compliments please)

You think it’s a lie, 5’5”, but if I’m talking in rhyme,

You had me the whole time


It’s nothing I’ve ever felt before

Not a co-dependent draw, or the engage of a sex haze

More like a pure compelling need to be near,

For whatever reason, at sushi maybe,

Someone I knew, I already held so dear


Confessions were made, early on in our dates

And your hands, became the most beautiful, delicate things I ever held

I loved just looking at you; your eyes, your hair, your body inside mine

I could hold you six feet under and want for nothing else


I don’t understand either, how someone so new to me,

Could’ve meant so much so early, but, it is what it is

Or was what it was…while the world gave thanks

And what was it exactly?


The beginnings of something profound and everyday,

Too early to tell, too scary to say

I have never seen anyone so scared of something so easy and so good


I was scared too, believe it or not,

Only my fears were whispered elsewhere,

while you saw the confidence in the flair of my hair

My friends, my family, were the ones who tempered the anxiety

Coming from my heart that hadn’t opened for anyone in so long


My heart shivered as it contracted and slowly learned,

trusted and leaned towards opening for you,

Until you did what you did,

Do what you probably so often do…to others as well


You shot us in the foot, and left the bullet in me

You cut the bud before it became a rose, right before it got good

You let me go, while you moved away to another hood

You paid homage to your fears, and left me in tears

You, cruel man, in a swift 180, numbed your heart to me and possibility


You couldn’t even give us the benefit of the doubt


I understand your pain, it’s a constant ring

Maybe you’re holding onto the pain, and not the love which is the thing

Maybe ‘easy’ feels neutral; and struggle, romantic?

Were you a rake? Or were you authentic?


Your past joys have become present phobias;

hard to feel one without the absence of the other

You’ve become your sorrow, making everyday the same tomorrow

And I feel robbed of something I thought I had finally found


So…Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

We’ll always have apple picking in the 2020 year


- written by Elaine Ann Hu, Dec 2020

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