I drove down to see you,
stood in your doorway, unannounced.
You were there with another—
I again felt like an outsider.
I didn’t belong,
not after I wrote you at length—
so many love songs.
My poems, wrapped in a box,
delivered—but only to be forgotten.
My heart still in shock:
you were going away,
never to be seen again—
until the month of May,
when I would fly thousands of miles
just to see that smile.
But you called and shared the news:
you married her—
and had a baby on the way, too.
That visit in May was not as planned.
We were supposed to be walking the streets, hand in hand—
not with a mutual friend,
not meeting your wife, breaking bread.
But as you said,
as long as we’re alive,
there’s a chance for magic in the air.
Well, my love, we shall see that magic again—
once this heart has been repaired.
Listen to my poems on SoundCloud
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