It is in the leaving that the agony begins
- hope and skin stretched too far
time enough for words
borrowed and weighty
eyes that glisten in the knowing of what comes
always comes
after
airports
train stations
bus stops
take us apart
but we keep knitting together
strangely inevitably
even we don't question it anymore
it is not in the reuniting that we are together
no kind of kiss binds us
each greeting
each meeting
is new is full of searching
of notsureifitwillbethesame
it is not in the continuing
not in the birthdays anniversaries new years
(although they're very grand)
nor in the letters calls poems
the miss you's are careless because they are common
it is not in the waiting
the day-counting
the trip-planning
the bag-packing
no kind of agony that shreds days makes us together
(calendars are cruel)
it is in the leaving
in the last look
last touch
last kiss
one more
will I ever see you again
rip
that makes me sure
that makes him sure
that this is a great love
it is in the leaving
Labels: Nicole Blackman