Ode

I only stay here because of you,
you’re all that ties me to this wicked little town.
With you around even sandpaper skin becomes smooth again,
like it used to be.
His words seem more tender, finding some secret dignity
unearthed from beneath the cacophonous crashes,
the remains of the small flighty vases we threw
once again just piles of broken glass.
When you’re with me
every pointed silence and accusation is gone
and I remember him how he was before the bombs,
I remember how to love a stone.
I remember sitting and whispering in hushed tones
side by side on wide empty beds.
I remember connection.
I remember staring out the bedroom windows
and when you’re around I see the other side as it once was,
nothing has changed except new flourishes of colour and birds.
You've brought me these secrets and whispered them in my ears,
reminded me what I've known all along.
I've come to see that when you leave me again,
every tender remnant of what was will be gone
and in its place, only what is.
That is why I need to go out tonight
and dance barefoot through the square’s neon light
because I know come morning you’ll have left me again,
hopelessly isolated by the absence of distance.