The One That Got Away (a poem)
I was immature back in the day;
I just didn’t know how to communicate
I was growing and learning, and I still am;
I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to say.
And things could have been different
if I was who I am today
so I guess this is a poem about the one that got away
There was always something about the way your name rolled off my tongue.
I spoke that word like poetry, like songs Gods sung.
Waves of bliss would cradle me like rays of morning sun
and lust would lull my soul to sleep with a honeysuckle hum.
If the only planes I could meet you in and have you in my sight
are the lucid, deceptive hallucinations I go to in the night,
then I would put my soul to rest, relinquishing the light,
because I hunger for you deeper than merely appetite.
Give me a glimpse as fantasy is what keeps me alive.
I would be content with just a dream
a mirage in my mind’s eye.
I awaken slowly, damning the morning,
dissevered from the high
as reality slowly sets in
that you were never mine.
Even if it’ll never be, just a momentary lie,
I dream of you relentlessly, a chokehold on my mind.
The clutches of a succubus, delinquent, yet divine
I love a man I barely touched, lips only once intwined.
But I feel the feeling of his skin as if it happened all the time.
It’s been seven years and I clearly hear the way he said my name.
I can paint a portrait of his smile like I saw it yesterday.
I recall with clarity how close we came to love,
and wonder still if there’s a chance to try again one day.
But he loves another woman now.
The one that got away.