The sky was a friend lately
He gazed up fondly while he lumbered through
Great expanses of rough patches never made smooth.
He loved his lady like stars and smiley-face texts, but
Her affection was either downpour or drought
and the reasons why were harder to swallow.
She wanted to be free, but not free enough to say it
He wanted her to be happy, but not without him
So, he spent more time looking for antidotes
And letting his heart climb into her design,
Letting her shadow elegantly smother joy,
Letting memories mold truth when he smelled another on her.
A few years in, she scribbled on paper
My love is a dove
An apology, a promise, nothing, he wondered briefly
Before folding it into an origami bird and leveling it at
Where her heart should have been.
It decorated her lap until she sheepishly unfolded it and added
As if he didn’t know.
At least she had finally admitted it so he could grieve
Still, she kissed his tense palm through tears of relief, lingering
Kneading false hope with a proposed tantric romp,
A girlish, hippy discourse about freedom being seven tenths of harmony
A ceremonial guilt-offering so flimsy an ant could crush it.
That night, after she’d driven off with more than what she came with
He watched a lone star flirt in the sky, sucking the rest of his soul dry
Because he had never seen just one star.