It's just that kind of day...

I started this poem (see below) days ago but only wrote the draft down today. The first four lines feel right--I cannot say that for the rest of the work in progress (I guess that's why I say it's a work in progress). I'm not thrilled with this work. Some of it feels right, but overall it doesn't express what I really want. So illogical. Anyway, this day feels like the end of The Dark Night Rises except Batman doesn't come back and all hope is lost. I just want things to get better…I'm gonna go cry now…while, probably, he, in his own world, doesn't even remember me...

The truth is

I said never
but didn't really mean it.
I said ever
but I didn't really mean it either.
The truth, I wished it would be
like the movies--
I'd get out of the car
you'd see me
walk towards me
and with your arms
wrapping around me,
you'd hold me.
The reality, much simpler.
Emptiness, a fullness,
enveloped me
when I saw you
standing there
saying nothing,
except it was nice to see me.
It was still nice to see me.
Do you remember,
do you remember saying that?
I'm mad at you.
I'm mad at you
for what you did and didn't do,
for what you said and didn't say.
I told you
not to say it was nice,
not to say it was nice to see me,
not to think of me anymore.
Okay. It's clear.
I've been punished.
When he kissed me
I wished it was your kiss.
When he held my hand
I wished it was your hand.
When he brushed his fingertips
over my face-I closed my eyes
and you were there
like you never were.
He's gone now,
but you never,
never left my mind,
just like the last
sweet moment
before the end.

AAC ©2014