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Sweet, Sweet Eggs
When we first met in whatever throes we might have met in,
You had the potential of a God, the grace of a Goddess, and the heart of a lion.
When we first fell in love, by the luck of whoever possessed it
I always found myself watching you close, long awaiting for these to decay.
You were the golden flecking on these walls, when you first moved in.
Your glow was legendary; to have you walking down my halls was an honor.
When we first rose from the bed, you went to the kitchen and cooked me a meal;
I hadn’t eaten breakfast in so long, even the bitter eggs had tasted sweet.
Maybe it was because they had been turned and formed by your hand,
But I don’t think I’ve ever had eggs that tasted sweet, nor will I ever again.
When day by day you came in the door—you were, after all, professional—
I thought to myself, “This man will bring me great things, in this life.
He will bring light back into these shadowed crevices and paint them once more,
He will deliver life into me so that I can feel it quivering against my veins,
And he will bring me much sorrow, when his virtue begins to fade.
But I will love him all the same,” and so I did, and so you did as well.
We were love and lust and all things gracious behind my closed doors.
Eventually, I learned you to be primal in nature, a beast I could only hope to tame.
You had every intention on doing whatever you had to in order to survive.
When I found you to be a wild spirit, and your thoughts to have traveled with the wind,
Well—at first, I thought it was much like me; then I learned you simply rode
And you simply lived your life on another breeze, one so far over my head.
Did you ever notice the way I tried to climb up to meet you there?
When we first made love, I remember you were gentle in your bearings,
But it was only in your eyes I knew that you were not with me, even when you were.
Where your mind could stray, that was never a question I could answer;
In time, I realized that the lives I’d thought the same, yours and mine,
Were very much different, and you would live yours while managing my own.
I had tried so hard to bind you, to tether you to myself, but still you broke free.
You broke free of everything, every single rope I bound your wings in.
Your cage had become broken, useless, but still I would lock you up, hide the key.
I’d find it gone in the morning, gone with you, with nothing but your sweat still cold,
Laying there on my skin, so cold then it might have been dead.
I could smell you, too; it changed from day to day, from soul to soul.
You could have whatever you wanted, the world was yours, you held it in your fingers.
When we were older, I tried to crush every gem that I did not produce,
To turn them to sand so they would slip past you, burn you like hot coals.
Decay had never come, and instead you clung to the qualities I had chosen you for;
You were so desperate to keep them, I suppose, that you would do what it took.
One day, that meant leaving a bit early for work—a trip, you had said—
The ticket had sit tucked in your suitcase, but I did not look; I’d already known.
Perhaps I could never see the future, but I knew where it would take you.
Destiny left you with one choice; one-way in, turn right around and one-way out.
The gold left with you, as did the sweet eggs and the love you trusted in me.
Maybe I threw it all out; could I have kept it, an essence to your persona?
Your potential never left, you fled to keep it. I suppose you did leave with grace;
And as for your heart? I’ll never know what became of that sturdy little thing.
It pesters me so, that I will never taste again its nectar.
This heart may beat, but its rhythm has changed without a conductor.
You flew away so that you could preserve yourself,
And now I fly away from myself, my mind is left in the shambles you left it in.
You could save all of the good in you, just like you did.
Me? I’ve left to keep my sanity.
This is the price of love.
This is fate.
This is the aftertaste of those sweet eggs.