Klaxons

I told her she would leave.
She looked at me
As though what I’d said
Didn’t register.

I repeated myself.

It was clear
Her failure to respond
Indicated leaving was either
A foregone conclusion
Or of no importance.

Or both.

That should have been a warning
But I wanted her so much
I was beyond weighing
The risk against the need.

Need trumps risk.
It shouldn’t.
But it does.

For a season
I drank deeply from her supply.
She seemed to move into my body
Mind
And heart.
All I saw was her.
All I craved was more of her.
I dismissed my own prophecy.

When she left
I became a miserable
Wounded
Heart-sick creature.
I squirmed like a living thing
On a spit
Roasting slowly
Unable to die.

This pain will fade
I assured myself.
Nothing can make a man
This miserable
For that long.

Foolish.

Pain does not diminish.
Pain continues.
There are no medications
That assuage heart flames.

I am growing old
In the same pain I began
When she walked away.

It’s not her fault.
I knew the truth.
Every man knows the truth.
There is only one solution…
…Be the first to walk away.

Do so the moment
Your inner alarm klaxons blare.