, , ,

It is better when you are out of my sight
and I can make believe
that you are eons away
that regretting the fission
that took place
between our two
formerly conjoined dimensions
is futile,

better when I can tell myself
time has forked and
you have turbo-thrust
in your Concorde
towards a horizon
so totally divided from
my causes
and personal religion,

better to feel absolutely convinced
that you are out of my reach
forever and forever,

better to be surrounded
by the dense ordinariness of every day,
by carbon copied people
with supersized egos
smothered in ketchup
and feel alone
protected from pain
by the second-hand smoke
of obscurity and being unknown,

than to be exposed
to the painfully beautiful presence
of the man who used to know me
the man who does not know me
the unboundedness of whom
I had once tried to contain
but couldn’t

the greatest failure of my life

better if I don’t remember
better not remind me