We talked out the coffee shop,
you and I and the others;
of being and losing,
and what we are,
and how we lost,
because of what we are,
and how,
being what we are,
the losing is what we did.
You,
playing the drama queen,
hurled yourself down
screaming -
“So you want to divorce me!”
at the feet of a man
you were not married to;
loosing what might have been,
because you did not dare
want it to be.
I,
being too small for myself,
left quietly in the night;
loosing what I could no longer be,
because I had lost wanting it to be.
And she,
because loosing what you love
is harder,
if that love is different;
and the losing is someone else's
not wanting it to be.
Our losses stood naked for a moment,
looking at each other -
and then we went our ways.
