CLEARLY ESTRANGED

POEM on one sided love. Moment, I realize our love is over.

CLEARLY

 
 

                      ESTRANGED

"Love doesn't exist, just stop trying to fool yourself..."

She let out in the same tiresome monotone of late.

"... little moments,
that constrain the soul-
Until, the inevitable instant;
when a shared truth is finally overshadowed.
The tender, sweet lies we weaved,
Lost of meaning,
when everything felt so done.
The moment arrived,
languidly as a cat
stretches himself
free from his lazy trance.
Where everything once shared
suddenly became
emptiness; or forgetfulness-
wrapped tenderly within a
mute indifference.


Lost,
trapped,
we're swallowed in sour kisses,
hugged by unwanted embraces
out of options...
The present is just us,
bound together in reluctance
some state of cold conformity-
within the drift of our dubious ether,
weighed down,
by
our best intentions...


Simple as it is absurd,
I surely feel myself becoming...
Just one more of the lost,
fading pieces of furniture-
abandoned, tossed-
simply forgotten.
Through crusted eyes watching,
the blurry speed of
people racing by
carrying on,
at the speed of life.



Such a slow death,
alongside a forgotten highway,
spent of everything you value,
-with nothing left to offer.


Unraveling little by little,
thread by thread.
With,
every stern wind,
we endured.
With,
everything that was said.
The desert still,
stretching, expanding
just as we find ourselves further apart.
A day at a time.


Trapped,
In our shared dream,
Trapped,
In a sweet desire,
In a fantasy-

Where:
"Once upon a time
there was an afternoon,
where I felt loved,
and maybe...
so, did you."

Sköl!!
Hrafnar Árgeir

1

Footnotes
1  If you will, it happened on the tail end of a particularly hot, humid beach day. My wife and myself lay together on a comfortable, cushy old bamboo sofa beneath the shade. Bare feet entangled as the sun went down on Tonchigüe beach, Ecuador. The idea that she had fell out of love had coldly become accepted somewhere inside me. She had finished saying to me how I shouldn't fool myself, how love doesn't exist.
We interrupt upon the last few stanzas of a culminating poem, ignorant of what was said before. Which ends on the hope that it wasn't all a lament full shame, that she in a different time did feel the same...