I can forget your olive skin, or
The way you frowned when you were thinking hard thoughts.
The kind of thoughts you held inside deep.
The ones you always backspaced, left unsaid because it was safer.
I can dismiss the way I felt in your arms, even though brief, like an occasional windy afternoon.
We were hung tight like sheets on a clothesline.
Our fingers, clothespins.
Yet, you continued to snap under the pressure.
The springs within you not strong enough to carry the weight of me.
So, you let the draft carry me away.
And I took with it, my scent, my compassion and acceptance for new heights.
I cannot repudiate the regret for having tried and tried.
I can divorce this idea of back and forth. Or,
Acquiesce this leash further.
Instead I choose to cut it.
So that I could let the updraft continue to carry me.