A poem about finding an unexpected picture and reflecting upon long-forgotten feelings |
You brought out—or ignited—something undefinable in me. Even now, I still don’t know what it was, whether it was good or bad Or just different. But I know I liked it. Still do. Back then I thought I loved you. And I don’t think I was entirely wrong. At least, I loved the feelings you brought out in me: Excitement, adventure, unpredictability, wild, instinctive pleasure, All the old-fashioned notions of romance. And then (of course) there was a visceral passion. Perhaps that’s gone now, but I was surprised to find That just seeing a picture of you Evoked an instant alertness in me, Like a dog poising just a moment, Surveying its living target, Just before it gives chase. What does this mean? What should I do with it? Should I strive to understand these feelings or Just try to let them go? I feel they are a part of me, so I wish dearly to hang on, As I do with all the integral parts of my past, Trouble though they may prove to be. And, in the end, I let them go a little at a time. Like desperate, clutching fingers hanging to a ledge, Sequentially pried free by a cartoonish villain. And yet, some pictures linger. Reproduced… Retouched, perhaps… Buried in the subconscious, Alive. |