I lost a battle
when I was hiding
with you—
casualties made way
for false saviors,
sweet lovers—
sex and snow,
that froze the pain.
You never said no—
not ever
not once
to me.
—A butterfly emerges
without permissions—
you might have said
(if you had said
anything at all).
You were that type—
that wide river,
that spanning branch
—a zen koan wrapped
in flesh
One fall evening
I stumbled through
the roses,
was bitten by the thorns
came clattering in,
fell limp on the
corduroy cushions.
You smiled,
always smiling—
serene like the Dali Lama
or some other
bullshit
you never said
anything—
till you did.
And when you spoke
I heard
the truth of it
the truth of it
the horrible truth of it
thank you