Sunday, April 24, 2011

2. And tomorrow

And when I reflect on the yesterdays,
I cling stubbornly to each memory of you
as if each one would bring you close to me.
And stubbornly I tell myself
that I am a distant memory in your mind
and that my foolish hope was
a lost cause.

And when I faced my denial and
told myself that you didn’t care for me
[half as much as a frog]
I couldn’t stand the loneliness
and regretted facing the truth.

But it is better than pretending that you love me too
and better than letting fancy fallacies
become my false reality.
And so I look to my tomorrows
in which you feature less and less
and hope that one day
you will fade into the corridors
of crinkled memories
like the rest,

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One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.

- Emily Dickinson