Or So You Said

"Or So You Said"



"Always", you said.
I had returned that word, marked in years,
believing the same. Trusting in your name.

Beginning from young and innocent places
trekking onward; paths, trails, and blue highways
we traveled our ages in pause and play,
transcending and transcribing youth and senior traces.

Moments we spent together or apart,
times stacked upon times, there was always a bond.
Or so you said.
One arm held me close, a secret sanctuary you offered;
a thought that it was mine alone.
Your chest bared a thunderous applause,
while the other arm kept me at bay
sending unspoken messages:
stay away, stand down, stand alone.
The meaning of clandestine lost its luster.
No more splendor in the secrecy and seclusion,
as my insecurity grew out of your intermittent silence.

Perusing our romantic history, a journal through decades
of decorated pages, noting a loving friendship
and intimate pledges; sometimes seemingly misunderstood,
or misstated. Mistakes were made.
Created, deleted, and recreated; our stories faded.

"Always", you said.
A word that continued to be bound in mystery;
a relationship based on hope and debased in doubt.
Then you left.
This time nary a phrase and without a single sound.
I'm left.
Wondering if another temporary disconnect,
or perhaps your forever design to finally sever.

"Always", or so you always said,
resonates on the fringes of my heart's mind
and my mind's heart. Remarkable memories reduced
to now empty spaces that remain. Was it all a ruse?

line count 36
Free verse form