The Cloak


I miss the urgency of our love
forged from desperation.
I miss the cloak you smothered me in.
The love I drowned myself in like an addict;
immediate reprieve abused so wildly that after a time of untamed abandon,
I was left lusting in a frame,
rotting from the inside.
I miss the me that needed a you and only a you,
nothing more.
I miss the pathetic me of the past
that would have loved you into the loss of dreams,
the quiet death of aspiration,
passing so slowly it’s nearly ill-conceived as growing up.
I miss the me that never noticed that our love was a flaming flavor
dipped in the sweet deceptive coating of passionate love.
I miss the me that saw no fault in the future you built for us.

Until,
beneath the cloak,
I was released,
finding that you had only a devotion to the person so perfectly wrapped in the cloak that you covered me in.

Until,
emerging,
I saw that not once did you consider joining me beneath the fabric.

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