We Would've Seen Mountains [Goodbye Pt. II]

I am willing to give him up because
I know now that he is too good for me
And that the day our eyes waltzed together
Across a warm, brightly lit room full of books and of
Scholars
Was merely because
He was shocked to see a girl with purple-pink hair
In this sacred place of academia.

Goddamnit I swore I would not waste any more of these precious words on him
But, sometimes, some people, require more than one goodbye poem
And sometimes, a goodbye poem is not just to a person
But to a dream

You see, I was going to change for him
And for a moment, I could see the mountains of Oregon
Reflected in the brimming love of his eyes
As he watched his hipster-turned-hippie girlfriend
Dance between puddles flowing one into the other
In an intricate small intestine that flows into a brook
I heard his laugh as the toes of his gray converse high tops got splashed
And felt him take my hands and spin with me
And sing. He must have sung. I heard him singing with my lungs.

But even though he looks at me and tells me, at twenty-two,
He still doesn’t know what he wants to be when he grows up

I saw the whisper, the brushing of whiskers to ear fuzz
In the dimly lit coffee shop
The sexual tension as loud as it could get here in Jesus-land
And I know what it means.
And I have heard the music they make together.
And I know that if we were to become us, we would never
Be together, that way. It will always be just me. And just him.
And sometimes just me and him.
But the togetherness is not there,
Together- we just don’t make music.

And poetry and conversations
And a half-hearted, confused desire to change:
To grow roots and sprout towards the sun
My tree trunk bent in his direction
Is just not enough.