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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