And Nobody Warned Me About You

And nobody told me that, at some point,

I would have to release you back into the world

that chewed me up and spit me out.

Nobody took my gnarled hands and whispered

that I’d have to let you go – let you go in all of the ways

I had attached myself to your being, your soul.

It just happened, like lightning striking a tree,

turning a flame into a wildfire

that destroys everything in its heated path.

Sure, there were storms, warning signs.

You stopped seeking me out,

you stopped responding to my messages.

You no longer wanted to hear my voice, you avoided me at all costs,

as though I was the worst infection you’d ever come across.

Still, I had hope that you would realize that what we had was special,

that what we had was worth fighting for.

But as the storm subsided, and the fire raged on,

it became quite clear that the only realization you’d be making

was that life was better without me.

And nobody warned me about this kind of torture,

with blue eyes and soft hair

and sweet kisses.

Nobody warned me about you.