I want to apologize;
write to you, my dear
John, and tell you that
it's not that I didn't love
you, it was that I knew
that you didn't.

I smiled when you asked
if you could 'make love'
to me, like two teens
playing hide and go
seek in a half-furnished
basement with your parents
above.

Oblivious to their
participation in our juvenile
game. We were ****
and half listening for footsteps
descending, announcing,
READY OR NOT HERE I COME!

His memory followed me
onto the floor with you
and I couldn't come
clean, confess
that it wasn't that I
was a mirror reflection
of your former lover,
but that it was his memory
that ****** my mind into
submission.

I want to apologize and
write to you, my dear,
John, and tell you that
it's not that I didn't love
you, it was that I knew
that I was chasing shadows
and you were the high noon
Sun, chasing them away.