Done With You
DONE WITH YOU
I can no longer imagine living with you,
the writhing and churning of my gut tells me so.
Compact and yet touching every aspect,
certain and secure in your subtle confusions,
you manipulate everything, reach every corner,
stain every milk blood red.
I drink, and I remember.
Spirits we heard, choices we made
when things were safe, and as they should be.
who reminded us of nothing,
never reflecting ourselves
back at ourselves.
In the doorway I was caught
by the staircase, one room bleeding
into the next,
never quite separate from you,
never apart from the consequences
of our actions.
When I fell, I fell right through you,
since you were never really there.
I can never really picture you
as I drink my problems dry.
I will no longer live with you.
I like the look of the light
in a room without you in it.
Dust motes dance in sunlight
caught between one breeze and the next,
the light blurs and compasses
never give you the true direction.
I found myself, where there might be something.
Dragging through the past with your net,
culling everything that you caused,
that you made to happen.
Cleared of detritus, this is the past,
running parallel under my sleep.
I look at the shadow you cast
and I am ashamed to say
I ever loved you.
I can no longer live with you.
©2006 Christopher Reilley
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