In another life I am certain I ran after you stumbling on hems of my skirts
Feet bruised and blistered back in that time I would have
Forgiven you two three hundred times just as my mother did
And my grandmother I would have cut my chest open and handed my
heart over arteries intact blood still warm
I would not have cared about voices in my head I would not have cared
About opinions of my friends or those menacing looks from my sister
In some other time, I would have been content to let you do anything
Just so I could wait in a supermarket line with YOU or watch clothes dry
Or look for mundane miscellaneous objects like mugs and mattresses
I would have found it more romantic than any of those dinner dates
Truth be told I would have wanted nothing more out of this life
Than to walk beside you and look for bloody vacuum cleaners in Bunnings aisles
Still, I wonder what good can come from it? What good is love, when
you have to die for it I have seen it in eyes of too many women and shoulders of
men wearied by love they could not hold they could not carry
I suppose in this life at least I should learn to lug around this heart of
mine for a change so here it is my letter of resignation I am giving you up
like whiskey and wine I am learning to
walk and not search for your face in every library window in every
corner shop in every lucid dream in every song and lyric I hope that in this life at
least I can do something different swim in more rivers and learn how to cook good pasta
climb more mountains and pick up more rubbish save more ducks and plant more
trees anything other than run after you in supermarket aisles Because
surely, love exists in other places too –– maybe even here, on this page, today