Results are in

When the battlegrounds are rife with wildflowers and everyone but oneself, has moved on.

perhaps I’ll flash my mother’s neighbour
or swim in a frozen lake
perhaps I’ll tea-drink until forever
comes to tell me I’m late

for living
I’ll point to the aforementioned and say something like
what, flashing isn’t living, tea isn’t life?

but he’s right
for the fun and extremes I want to do
are efforts to stop thinking of you
to deconstruct the universe I made
orbiting my internal zoo
of endless ruminations (over you)

forever says, look (maybe he’ll say something like, sister or, beloved)
let me reach you, a friend
your stream of thought lead to an ocean of ‘when’
when the object of your desire hasn’t thought of you
since then

I’ll kick and scream and refuse to believe
the (potential) (probable) truth (?) that sits in front of me

I have experienced my first love,
my first loss
I am thirty three
It’s seven years since we met
oh, obliterate me!