“He seems (uncursed with reason) not to know
The depth or the duration of his woe.”

                                                              Charlotte Smith

You held me tight in your arms during the nights
where our legs became entwined, deep within the
grass of temptation and ecstasy. Eve and Adam
felt the same before the snake arrived and tempted
them. Your glasses, circumference of your eyes,
amber like a desert in disguise. Hair as malignant
as the brown moisture from sticks, trees bend down
to us, and their leaves lick our bare beings. Something
about you enchanted me fully, something about your
core resonated with my trauma. You felt me, saw me,
cared for me. Why did it have to end so silently?
An unwritten rule in love is that when a relationship
ends, it should be explosive. The seas need to tremble
at our fights, the Shrine of Ammos rises with the
sound of continuous waves, tsunamis hitting our
love before we inevitably decay, die, with the world
barren around us. It did not end so. That would be dreaming.
Instead, a soft goodbye, an echoed cry, bouncing off
Nature’s eyes. So long are the days where we screamed
into the night, half-drunk, half-alive. I try hard to see
you again, deep under the sun, clean brown fields,
in a floral dress and beach hat, the red roads fly
across your arms, to your bare feet, and those
soft facial cheeks. You still send me letters,
spare is their consistency. I read them and hear
your voice move around the circumference of
my quarters, until it slowly disappears. Away.
Into the nothingness of darkness, I will remember you
forever, until the dirt consumes me and my blood
becomes the field where humanity will howl and play.