Picked this rose in remembrance of you.
And the sage flowers with a splash of blue.
For the sad I feel thinking of you.
I know it’s over, but I can’t stop wanting to be true.
I just can’t undo the years of holding and having your back.
And I can’t bear the thought of some him with you.
What’s clear is my lack of emotional maturity.
I’m a teenager again,
reverted back to a pot smoking adolescent.
Hanging on your every word and action.
Embarrassing but true.
For all her chic thinness
and occasional ice princess mean,
she has an almost
gluten and dairy free
banana pancake air of health.
And just like breakfast,
she makes the rest of your day.
Joy or pure pain,
depending on whether you have
the memory of her or
the thrill of being near.
She could be more beautiful
if she only applied herself.
You know, did her hair a bit more
or put on some lipstick or rouge.
That being said she’s still probably the
single most exceptionally
beautiful woman in the world.
Ophelia was frantically packing all the things
that she could justify as being hers.
Which was basically everything.
After 15 years of marriage,
Max was left with the toaster
and 4 plates.
In her haste she threw away
on unopened bottle of dipping oil.
What you might have on fresh bread.
Max took it out of the trash,
why let it go to waste?
She saw he had saved it
and threw it back in the garbage.
Rather it wind up in landfill
than with him.
“You know how old the office is.
She came for a treatment and had a visitation.”
“It was a woman though.”
“Everyone who works there knows Fred.
He’s a spirit that everyone has seen.”
“No one has ever seen a woman before.”
“Apparently, she had some kind of cough.
Hacked and hacked like a smoker.”
“Fred would never smoke. He’s a dancer.
We’ve seen him Tango, I kid you not.”
Eve was out late and in a hurry to get to work.
She didn’t think about what she was doing.
Just put the fork in her bag and forgot it.
It was her step mother, Ophelia’s, favorite fork.
The only thing she would eat with.
She went hungry without it
and the whole house stopped.
Blue light falling.
Ophelia hadn’t slept for months and the days all folded together like soft dough.
She spent her evenings bathed in blue flowers, playing digital roulette.
She’d gambled on him and lost everything.
Max smiled at her from across the table.
She then saw she’d also won someone who would never leave her.
Max hatched the idea with her.
For lemonade, infused with rosemary.
Could have bought lemons, but it was more romantic to steal them.
From the neighbor’s yard.
He waited until midnight, walked past the house.
Turned around and walked back.
Jumped the fence.
The sensors tripped the lights, their dog lunged, and all hell broke loose.
Max had wanted her from the first.
Your freckles and long legs haunted me.
Ophelia seemed expert at keeping men at bay.
Made me want you more.
6 month courtship.
Finally she consented to a “fling”.
He left her apartment uncertain.
13 years later he woke up next to her and counted his lucky stars.
Another couple, two more winding their way through love.
It’s hard to predict what the outcome will be.
But, they have each other. And sometimes that’s enough.