...

with what little bit i have left,
i feel that i need to retreat.
tuck my tail,
head for the hills.

once if only once, if only once,
i thought i had things under control.

from up above we see the skies,
we see the ground,
the streets.

it once made sense from up above,
the land spread out below.

"did you solve the problem,"
she asked,
knowing full well i never would.

"can you solve the problem,"
she asked,
knowing full well i wouldn't.

i mistakenly thought i'd never see
the day
in which i couldn't do
whatever i wanted.

i always thought you'd be here,
i always thought i'd be there,
i always thought we'd be there.

this makes perfect sense,
a skill i never wished for,
an ability i shun with a fervor.

we had our own last supper;
an amiable one,
with bread to break,
and wine to drink.
we annointed ourselves with oil
and blessed ourselves with love,
if only for a minute.

you came dressed to the nines,
i casual and relaxed.
perhaps i should have seen this as symbolism,
i would have scolded my pupils for missing it.

the drive home did not seem
nearly as long as it should have.
instead i got out and sat and read,
as if nothing serious had happened.

the next day you ran.
and i was not there.
and now i'm not there.
and now you're not here.
and now we're not there.