He was like a plastic bag, but the
non-translucent kind...
the kind that you could call foggy
The kind that you didn't know the contents of until you reached in and pulled them out
With him you had to be smart enough
to check what you were pulling out first or there could be a fight
He was not the type to accept impatience
Especially if he was the one being rushed
If it was raining you could be sure he wanted to sit in it
Not sing, or dance, or run
Just sit in the grass and let the raindrops trickle down his neck
That's how patient he was
Until he met me
I begged, maybe too much in the beginning but I was always
"Go, go, go" when he was ready to rest and I did not catch his initial irritation
I did not pay attention to his needs but he worked overtime attending to mine
and that's what made him the most patient in the beginning
It was not our love or my running that got old
No, it was some greater force
Like the one between two magnets driving us further apart
the closer we tried to get
The day he lost his patience with me was the day I found my ignorance and recognized my wrongs
Though I did not correct or accept either
And he walked away with no regrets while I tried to figure this empty feeling I think he left
But I couldn't be sure because I never felt full with him here
I never felt full but I emptied him out
I pulled all the items out the plastic bag
without looking first