This is how it will be:
I will leave, because I have to
You will stay, because you can
We will talk- often enough;
exchange words, wishes
***** ideas
I will visit- more than I can afford to-
because your bed
feels more like home to me
than my entire house,
more than this town
where I go on doing
what is so cruelly called
'living'
You say you will visit
when you have the time and money.
You will never have that kind of time
or money.
We will talk, less frequently
You will keep me up to date
on your vibrant artistic endeavours
I will have mad fits of desire
brought on by a few words of yours
Time will pass.
We will talk, be frank and honest
Chat nimbly, later numbly
about meeting new people
These words will be the knives
that cut at the seams
we didn't have time
to stitch together tightly
I will clutch, then cling, then lose my grip
be dragged down
by the weight of holding you back
You will socialize and find solace
in others, face to face
and give up on what distance denied
You will let go and move on
I will wrap myself
around those few sweet,
slippery memories
of how it was.