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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2220211-For-Olliviadoc
Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2220211
Dedicated to the greatest enigma in my life now.
Do you remember Ten Brooke,
where we first met
after my third
and last
suicide attempt
finally forced me
to seek help
on a dark Jacksonville evening?

I do.

You smiled at me,
got my attention,
and my heart,
long abused
by unrequited love,
skipped a beat
or two
at that moment.

Oh, yes. . . .

My friend
was attracted to you
as well
so I backed off
until he told me
that he knew
it wasn't right,
and opened the door
WIDE
for me do dash thought. . .

I did.

You accepted,
and soon enough
we were in love,
sharing precious moments:
(Remember St. Augustine?),
moving in together
at my insistence,
loving each other
through our troubles. . .

I smile.

You got me
to see Help
in taming
my Beastie,
pointed out the way
to my tomorrows,
asking very little of me
save that I TRY,
giving me a taste
of the Security
I craved so much!

Remember OP?

My boss
liked you
from the start,
as did
just about everybody
in my life
that you ever met,
including
an older woman
I hurt so badly. . . .

Yes indeed.

WE went on
for several years,
growing quite familiar
with each other's quirks,
and I loved you
more and more
with each passing year,
but you
kept pushing me away,
kicking me out
one awful day
to face the world
on my own.

I cried.

You needed me still,
so we stayed in touch,
me bicycling
ten miles
down the Atlantic Parkway
to visit you,
and Lucky Dog
whenever I could.

History again.

We tried once more,
to be partners,
me taking care of you
when your health
was going downhill
rapidly,
you providing
the sustenance
we both needed
physically,
Lucky Dog
always in the shadows.

Great Dog.

I should have known
the end was in sight
when I began
getting disability,
receiving Social Security,
my own steady income,
not needing you quite so much,
so I guess you needed
to find somebody else
on that dating site
you weren't aware
I knew about.

It ended.

You caught me
talking romantically
on the phone
in my room
one evening
with Bella,
beat the hell out of me
while I was still
in touch with her.

I left.

Packed up
everything I owned
into that little green car
you sold me,
one November day,
headed south
on the interstate
to start my new life,
leaving you both
behind,
never looking back.

Long ago.

I went through
six months of hell
only to somehow
with the help
of my current wife,
the love of my life,
coming out on the other side,
ending up
on Cape Cod
of all places!

There now.

You found me
a few years later,
through some lawyer
you hired
to collect some money
you claimed I owed you,
then,
after I brushed you aside,
tried once more
on Facebook,
which I accepted.

History again.

Nowadays
I have no idea
who you really are,
or what
your life is like,
because
honestly
all you are to me
are daily texts,
Facebook posts,
the occasional phone call
I'm always the one
making it seems. . . .

That's it. . . . .
© Copyright 2020 Randy RosarioWyatt (randyr at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2220211-For-Olliviadoc