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madison & 35th

It wasn’t what I expected of you.
The day a miserable fog of Manhattan misery.
I bought for myself a gold ring to break the spell of you.
Hours spent cutting knife-like across the page:
I shred you to bits – tore our love to pieces
until there was nothing left but disjointed words
meaningless and true all.
You arrived hang-dog and lonely.
I didn’t care: I froze you out -
locked tight the doors and took away your key.
We walked wordlessly down Lexington to the train,
me looking away; I bit back, chocked on my tears,
hid these green eyes behind my dark glasses –
pulled the shades tight.
You said something – What was it?
Vague and meaningless anyway.
I hated you as we walked through Grand Central,
when you tried to take my hand down the steps –
I am not your geisha.
We caught the 6.35 and I sat facing the window,
cried my tears to the Harlem river,
hiding my face with with swaths of blonde hair.
You saw, you saw, you said: “No” Another time, gentle, “no”
and reached for my hand – I pulled away, quick as an eel,
accepting only your tissue.
I saw as you bent at the waist, you mercurial unexpected tears.
So you hurt as well.
See back and forth volley of grief.
Melancholy unmendable a train that leads to nowhere in particular.

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