[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]