I quit you because we didn’t agree,
At the gut level.
Life was fine enough, and I was strong and resolved;
You were close by, every day,
But, I didn’t “need” you.
Your Cousin Sugar still comes by,
Ours a sweet, warm, pedestrian relationship.
You, I knew, could slay me.
With you, it is explosive.
We are match-to-gasoline,
A hot, fireworks burn,
The kind that explodes, then lingers and sizzles,
Before and behind eyes.
What I know now is that we can’t be together every day.
A hot burn, every day, nevertheless cools and becomes
A fickle, rain-threatened flame, demanding to be tended, constantly.
I can’t do that anymore.
Though, I slip sometimes.
I do it with full knowledge,
I do it with an enthusiastic embrace,
Like hugging a rocket ship bound for orbit.
I do it because there are some undeniable moments,
When YOU alone are what I NEED.
A quenching fire burns everything in its path.
But a quenching fire exists to burn bright, then burn out.
When I need you, you are there for migraine, a slump, a long day,
or clock-hand devastation.
Alas, a remedy, by definition, cannot be a habit.
Therein lies the conundrum.
This love is bittersweet,
Because I cannot love you daily.
But when I do let go,
And invite you in for a single day,
It is a day CRUSHED.
My dear, beloved: