Our relationship was like the orchids I forgot to water for months.
So beautiful and full of color and life and potential for growth in the beginning; but I forgot to water you.
And like my orchids the sun took you away.
Burnt up and burnt out.
I stayed inside for weeks at a time after that.
Watering my liver down with an endless stream of alcohol, while I talked with my shadow about how badly it wished to be cast at my feet in the sun once more.
To run through the sprinklers and shower storms.
I finally made it outside again, but I sit in the shade.
I sit and smoke
I am not a religious man but for some reason I found myself in a prayer position.
My hands pressed flatly together against my lips, pointed towards the sky, dissecting my face in a vertical fashion.
My thumbs pushing into my lymph nodes.
Staring at the garden as I ponder if this was a taught position or instinct.
Somehow it felt right.
Like biting your nails before a job interview, or pacing in the waiting room of a hospital.
I play in the dirt in hopes to dig up some pieces of me that got burnt up in our drought.
My DTs were acting up again.
Better get something to water them down.
I pushed my lips to the soft tops of my knuckles on my now balled fists.
Like at least I won’t let go of me. But I would.
I then pulled my head back and separated my fused fingers.
Even I let go of me.
We grew & loved within a carnal connection;
until the weather changed for the worse and withered.
My heart. My art. My blind and trusting romanticism.
Everything I worked for
I was doing alright before I met you,
and now even I let go of me.