Gradually

I lost my grip on him — gradually.

It’s insane how much he was my reality.

One time — a long time ago — he came along and smiled like the sun,

was warm like blood — I gushed like an open heart wound.

He touched me softly and my skin trembled while the air crackled.

People applauded in their hearts.

We were passionate and a bit carefree — a couple rules:

never deploy our mental armies,

never forget how to spell loyalty.

Everyone turned to shadows.

We bloomed into each other like springtime trees.

He said he would never leave,

roots wrapped deeply around me.

But things turned warning red.

Tornados spun in our heads.

Stretch marks on our hearts,

puzzle pieces with missing parts.

Riverbeds upon our faces,

tearstained traces.

I can’t believe we make believe

we aren’t in different places.

The more the questions fell out,

the farther our answers drifted away.

I made people feel sorry for me —

“I knew you would do that,” I heard him say.

Laughing out loud as he left silently.

It’s insane how much he was my reality.

It’s crazy how fast you can lose your grip on everything —

gradually.