Even When it’s All Over It’s Not Necessarily Over

I loved you then, but then, you knew that
didn’t you ..
Oh’ yes, indeed I did, every single little thing
about you ..
But guess what, I could not have felt more guilty
even if I wanted to, or tried ..
So please, don’t answer, phone, text, or write,
instead though ..
Remember some of those fine days we once
shared perhaps ..
Like when that single glimpse of sun made
us sneeze ..
Do you by any chance recall how we both then
laughed as if
it might have been hilarious .. And then later
when walking through
those wet fields, desperate to get home, or at
least to find
some place dry where we might have just holed up
for a night or two maybe ..
Those were the days and the nights, were they
not my darling ..
And every now and then, do you perchance recall
how afterwards
we laughed and skipped along, lightly and slow,
without a single care ..
Dear lord, how each of those days was then filled
with only the both of us
and the sound of us dancing, to a tune, no one but
we could possibly hear ..
Oh’ my, how the light was then blinding with colours
unreal and imagined ..
Yes, that my love, was when you tasted of lychees,
of cotton and cardamom seeds ..
Indeed it was there and then, I breathed deeply, the air
you exhaled ..
And I later grew strong on the sound and the taste
of a woman much loved ..
And I swear to this day that woman was you ..
And while we are at it
do you mind very much if I ask whether you recall
the day when
I painted the walls of our little room both magnolia
and lavender blue ..
When the air all around us was still, but yet filled
with electric ..
When the only movement of note, was the slow
rise and the fall
of your belly and breasts, and the sound of our
hunger, our longing and sighs ..
For it was then in that moment, I recall myself rising
and vacating
this body like a flock of startled red cardinals, each
aimlessly soaring ..
And how then you fell with me slowly, without one
of us, so much as
opening our eyes, or for that matter, leaving a trace
on the sheet or the pillow
nor even a dent, or a flake or a ripple behind ..
But then who
would have imagined, before long there would
only be crumbs left
and a few unwritten words to our love song, but then
my love, you were
a young river and hungry for sea, while I was a mountain,
already old and eroding ..
Then it dawned on me, out of the blue, nothing is static
or indeed lasts for ever ..
But when it's over .. it’s not always necessarily all over ..