[your name here]

Back in ancient times, Aristophanes spread a rumor

that when humans were created, we were made

with two sets of arms, legs, heads, genitals

The gods, afraid we had too much power,

split us apart and mixed us all up

so that we’d spend our days searching for our lost half

And apparently that is: The History of Love

 

You and I crashed together on a summer wind

then fell forward into the autumn months, tripping over each other

Children, I think, looking back. It was all child’s play.

Even when I gazed at you, it was not my other half that I saw

but my rival

my equal

my greatest challenge

 

Your only crime was not loving me back.

 

Fitzgerald had Zelda, Dante had Beatrice,

Orpheus had Eurydice, and for the longest time

I had you.

There’s no need to say how it ended, or why,

but if you’re finally reading the things I write

then more often than not, these pieces were just another way to carve

[your name here]

 

I heard once that one lover is a hand, the other a bird

and that for both to survive

the hand must hold on just tightly enough

so that the bird cannot suffocate, yet cannot also fly free

The problem I think, with you and I

Is that we are both birds ready to take flight at any moment

leaving an empty hand grasping at nothing

 

We say we know each other, but this should not be true

after all the time that we have spent apart

You said you felt my pain, but I hate to say

that you know nothing, compared to losing

my rival

my equal

my greatest challenge

 

My worst crime was loving you too soon.

 

For the longest time, all I could do

was turn you into literature, because

I didn’t have you.

There’s no need to figure out where next we will fly

but if you’re finally reading the things I write

Then before we take this any further, you should know I put

[your name here]