Response to the Minute Poet

Love never failed you.

You keep living in this place,

I’ve seen the pictures, but 

it doesn’t exist anymore,

a mere fantasy of past, convoluted

by memory and interspersed with

with weeds of your exclusive perception.

A girl with a shy smile, t-shirt

and jeans, she walks in your

shared space, and the colors fit her.

Loose pony tail, hurriedly done,

no make-up, no jewelry,

as if you’d surprised her with the

camera. 

She wasn’t someone

I would have taken for you, but her

eyes conveyed a simple message,

and for what you missed, I cannot say.

This ended. You and I both know.

And you thought I was like her,

felt the same energy of storm, 

and a heartbroken vibration that

echoes from the depths of our eyes.

Whatever failed you was

not love. No fault in a person

who is not her, no

reconciliation through your agony.

You ignore the state you are in,

but sooner or later, 

it will catch you, cornered and alone,

and consume you whole.

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