A Final Kiss, A Final Goodbye

I don't know why I keep writing about this.
You'd think I'd despise you by now,
With my both awkward and sometime's hateful comments...
But in reality such comments
are both unmasked as well as masks...

Unmasked in the sense
that I really am inhumanly ticked off at you...
So tired of the old, "Don't be sorry",
So sick of them saying, "It'll be okay."
When it's not okay.
Because I've lost you... to someone else.

And then:
Masked... in the sense
that I'm not entirely mad.
I'm infuriated, believe me, but at the same time:
I'm depressed and miss you.

I still can't believe I keep writing about you.
For you. To you.
When it's not like you'll listen...
Not like it matters.
That my tears keep dripping,
falling down on this rough draft...

So melodramatic, So corny, they say.
I'm a poet.
How dare one expect anything less of me?
This is my voice,
My heart on paper.

Now if only one could listen to parchment.

And what if you are reading this?
Listening? heh...
I choke on my words, "I'd be amazed..."
I've written literally too many poems on the subject.
Odd how you choose to read this one.

Or is this a poem?
It doesn't ryhm...
It might as well be dubbed terrible.
But to the complete contrary:
A poem is not something that ryhms.
It is something
that but partially reflects the thoughts of an author...

And here are my thoughts,
here for you to read.
Since so very clearly,
I'd never have the heart to say this all to your face...

When looking up into your gorgeous eyes...
I'd tell you the story
of what I'd do,
If I could only kiss you one last time...

Put aside my frustration and depression,
Outcast my tears for just a moment...
Bring my arms around you,
and hold you so close to me...
Hold you as if the moment
could break at any second
Just because it might.

Keep her out of the picture for a while,
While I try to get you to remember
the better times...
The moments we had,
whether it be in the company of others,
or simply you and me. Together.

I'd try and stand up straight
to see you face to face:
Talk to you quietly and explain
the things I wish you would have thought of,
When you tried to decide between her and I...

Like that time we went to walk
in the park not far from my house...
I sat leaning back into your arms
as the sun started to set...
It bathed the nearby lake a reflective gold
and we both agreed that neither of us
wanted to leave so soon...
We went over several excuses to buy time
Just so we could stay there a little longer.

Did you know the back seat of my mom's car
still smells like popcorn
from the time we went to the movies
and you spilled the bag?

Do you remember the first time
I kissed you?
Probably not...
Eh. Given the repetition of circumstances,
it wouldn't be the first time
you've forgotten something.

The bit of depression
returns to my heart
As I feel a stray tear journey to my eye.
I know our last moment,
for whatever it is worth,
is about to end.

I'd hold you as close
as my arms would allow,
and look up at you in a tearful gaze.
I'd give a weak laugh, say,
"You prick..."
Before I'd quickly press my lips to yours
in that final kiss.

I'm fearful to pull away,
But I know it has to be done.
She has returned from waiting and watches you closely,
making sure you don't remain beside me...
I'd let go of your hands slowly
and turn away so that I don't have to see
you return to her side
instead of stay with me.

Every day I'll look at you with
that very same aching thought...
The horrible absence of old emotions,
The hurtful pressence of new kisses.

And every day I'll look at you,
wondering if you've read
this disgrace of a poem.
Wondering if you've read
this painful series of thoughts.
Wondering if you've read
what's really on my mind.

And thus,
in my melodramatic, corny,
un-ryhming, disgraceful
statement on parchment...
I kiss you for the last time,
choking back tears as I whisper,
"I'll miss you."

... In what might perhaps be
the final poem that I write
about you.
For you.
...To you.