Held Close You Let Go

Close,
not close enough to care,
but close enough to know,
that I will always be there,
enough to know that I’ll catch you,
reattach your falling pieces
as you break down.

Just far enough,
that my hand cannot touch,
as such,
when I fall,
calling your name,
there is no reply.

Distant,
persistent cries I answer
like questions.
Yet when brought into question
your expression says nothing.

Nonchalant,
proof of your aloof attitude.
Your rude words,
Screwed into paper pellets,
tossed like knives at my chest.

I did my best to be stronger,
no longer accepting
a turned back.
In reflection,
two backs turned, I learned,
is no mirror,
where eyes can only meet
face, to face.

I cannot replace you,
though the hole you left
is a pin prick,
it is thick enough
to see flaws.
Flaws in me,
my misguided mind,
you redefined anger
with inked smudges.
Rushed lines like angered grudges,
hastily written over one mistake,
to blot a perfect page.

Your rage bites at every letter,
a moment of blind fury,
Surely when I said,
‘I will always be there’ I lied?
One night sick is no excuse
for a broken promise.

So where were you? All this time, where were you!
I gave you sympathy,
compassion
your irrational conclusions drawn
by broken pencils.

You led me to believe
in angels with tarnished wings,
that could still bring halos and justice.
But when I tried to fix you,
you broke more,
we spoke for nights on end,
About finding a cure,
a medicine, to fix the panic
I offered arms, an embrace,
in case you ever felt alone.

You do not own me,
only own what I give,
yet,
when I did not give enough,
possession bred with anger
into mindless aggression
that exploded in a shower
of glass and windows, broken.

Held close, you let go,
You erupted in a screaming inferno
of expectation and privilege.
You did not deserve me,
you served me lies
yet met with honesty
you accused me of treason.
And you did not deserve the pity
I showed as I watched you explode.

Your memory still torments me,
prevents me from fixing those
Who have not fixed me first.

~ Andrew
I had a bad experience where someone become almost dependent on me and when I was ill they threw my suffering back in my face as though I should have ‘always’ been there. In terms of bad memories, this one ranks alongside Whisper.

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7 responses to “Held Close You Let Go

  1. Emotions ARE strange Andrew…
    I remember when the orginal “Star Trek” came out I feel madly in LOVE with SPOCK!! I loved the idea of being logical & emotionless….
    I have learned to control emotions for the most part altho some days I am very emotional…..this being human is tough!!!! HAHAHA!!

    Liked by 1 person

      • I think I got emotional over SPOCK because I knew Leonard Nimoy was Jewish like me & had come from an Orthodox family like me. He also wrote the MOST AMAZING lyrical poetry I have ever read over the eyars. In fact his poetry was used on a line of greeting cards called Blue Mountain Cards. He was a real Humanitarian & a huge cat lover….
        (sounds like ‘Mr Right’ to me, hahahahaha….)
        He represented alot to me as a real person & as the ficitional Spock.

        Like

  2. WOW!
    I am speechless after reading this poem Andrew. When I was recovering from Cancer back in 1985 my 4th hubby Paul left me. He was the Quadriplegic hubby & he blew apart over my Cancer & surgery.
    I felt so betrayed by him; so alone.
    My 3rd ex hubby & my stepsons actually took care of me until I was back on my feet. I know Paul could not have physically helped me but he could have been there emotionally & just sat with me…..
    I forgave him & we surivived that scenario. Your poem reminded me of the hurt I felt all those years ago….
    You REALLY are an amazing poet!
    Sherri-Ellen

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m glad I was able to provoke thoughts though I had no idea and I wasn’t aiming it at any particular event in anyone’s life other than my own. it’s strange how two completely different people can experience things in similar ways
      Andrew

      Liked by 1 person

      • This is the beauty of poetry Andrew. One person can write something & think ‘no one will understand’ yet there are always people who can relate from their own point of view & experience.
        There are alot of universal emotions also. It is not always easy to find someone who ‘understands’. And then there is that one person who totally relates! That is the joy of poetry!

        Liked by 1 person

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