4 Stages in a Doomed Relationship

1 Initiation
In the past, there was a lot of not you in my life
so it was easier to not think of you constantly.
There were whole days you weren't here at all.
Now, there's a lot less not you.
In an effort to not think about you
I've been thinking about you a lot
The other day a friend pointed out
I mentioned your name
six times in twenty minutes.
All I could think was:
”Daaaamn!”
I'm in trouble.
I know this story.
Know exactly where it ends.
Know too well my tendency
towards self-sabotage
It doesn’t matter.
I sleep in spurts now.
I don't trust this feeling.
I've been here before.
It's a lie.
2 Infatuation
There is a creepy sense of romanticism here.
3 The Semblance of Love
She are smile thrown backward against the sky
Schoolyard butterflies made out of flames,
fluttering up to my chest
Every time I hold her hand
Her voice a steady rise of warmth through my whole body
Scent on the bed
the sense memory that spells out the words: “Home,”
every time.
Body where I still believe God exists.
Like it’s the last place he cared enough to show off,
every inch a testament to faith in sacred ground.
Tucked under the covers holding tight to each other
like if we squeeze hard enough we can become one person.
There is no place, more peaceful
than these moments
I think this is all we get,
what’s left behind when everything else turns to dust.
We are eagles with wings outstretched
gliding on updrafts of each other’s empty spaces.
Talons clasped together and spiraling.
We never notice the ground is coming up fast.
4 The Inevitable
I try not to think about it.
Know enough to know
when there's too much back-story,
too much history to deal with.
I can't compete with that,
shouldn't have to.
You are here (heart).
This is all the guidance you should have needed.
Find myself trying too hard to look happy,
trying too hard to smile
I swear every time I see someone
who looks like you from the back,
a little burning sensation lodges itself
in the chunk if my heart where you used to live.
I don't think I was ever in love with you.
That doesn't stop you
from invading parts of my subconscious
I thought were finally safe.
There will always be a piece of that still belongs to you.
Women can smell the desperation on me.
Feel the cold of your ghostly shadow
when I hold them.
But I still hope one of them
can patch the hole you left
fill it up with all this not you
I’ve been missing.