A crystal rocks glass, a family heirloom from my now deceased Aunt,
serves as an elegant companion to Hennessy and two cubes of ice,
and entirely inelegant contemplations.
Emotionally, I am yours.
I always have been,
always will be,
but life moves on
as swiftly as the river flows, the planets orbit, our Mother Earth turns.
Today, I stand here
looking at the wreckage of my latest attempt,
my most recent effort at contorting reality to fit my ideal of love,
you.
The ideal fell short, as I’m sure you realize.
We tried. We lacked.
We beat our wings against the cages we each imposed.
You, complete freedom to fly wherever your heart and fears took you.
Me, a feathered, nest resplendent of jewel tones and ninety nine pieces of art on the wall.
The confines took a beating, bars bent, gaping holes from which either could escape.
One fine fall day, you did.
Escape.
In not pursuing, I set you free.
You never returned.
In this, I have come to believe you were never mine to begin with.
I sip the dregs from my crystal cup,
wash and lay it tidily beside the sink to dry,
and go to bed,
for tomorrow is another day.
~ Mk Michaels, 2013
