From the Past....

Distance

She’s almost gone.
The smell of her Roger & Gallet perfume still lingers around the spot where she last stood
As if not wanting to completely leave me
As I sit alone on my dull, beige porch
With only the cheerful song of the bluebirds to mock me in my state of sadness.
I know they are coming,
the unwanted thoughts, rather questions, filled with bitterness.
One question seems to stand out as if it were
Underlined, circled, and highlighted amongst
A sea of questions that cannot be answered.
Why?
Why has she been allured by the selfish intents of
Mary Lyon and Abigail Adams?
Her talk of advancements in the Movement fills my
House, drowning me, while she swims gracefully enjoying every minute of it.
As I sit there on my porch contemplating my situation, I stare at
A broken lemonade glass that lies there innocently
On the ground as a result of
My anger, which quickly
Ebbs allowing sadness to flow in and take over my thoughts.
She’s almost gone.
With the leather covered photo album
Clutched in my hand, I became overwhelmed
With thoughts of losing her.
She assures me that she loves me but,
The speed in which she left for the Seneca Falls Convention, the first ever women’s convention,
Tells me different.
She wants to be independent
This I know for sure.
Her eyes, once filled with the passion of our love
In our wedding pictures, was now replaced
With the passion of seeking independence.
She’s almost gone.
As she sinks farther and farther into the
Clutches of willful women,
Stolen from me like candy from a baby,
I sink farther and farther into an endless
Pit of loneliness.
My face becomes wet.
As the tears flow freely on my unwilling cheeks,
they came back,
the unwanted thoughts were ready to attack me again.
This time they were telling me that my relationship with my wife would never be the
Same.
She was gone.
I could no longer hear her car exhaust.
The picture of our wedding stared at me with
Taunting eyes.
It laughed at me, called me a loser, so
I ripped it in two and left it on the porch.
When she got back from her “Convention”, she wouldn’t find
Me.
I would be
Gone.