These are the hands that touched you,
the ones that now
seek to explain themselves.
The past is so far back there,
I cannot reach it
to turn it over
and see why it is there.
I am of the opinion
that we crashed into each other;
hard.
Too hard to extricate ourselves
and so we stayed as one
for a while.
But it just grew old
and antiquated.
We didn’t come to be that way.
This never met with our approval
and so we had to separate.
Painfully.
Excruciating.
Each limb
and connection,
tearing
where they had been fused together.
Bleeding and screaming;
we shared the blood flow.
We severed those veins
and cut you free of me,
I of you.
Like a twisted wreck;
one being,
now two.
But we’ll never forget it,
or remember it fondly;
a kiss that became
a terrible accident.
You said that you loved me.
I said that I loved you,
but once separated;
I ran
and so did you .
These are the hands
that remember your body.
These are the hands
that cut and excised,
but I do not remember
your voice,
or your shadow
and I can’t reach back
that far.
I hope you’ve healed well
and that you don’t remember;
wherever you are, now.
HG – 2017
