I’m Not Going Anywhere

“I’m not going anywhere”
you’d said,
while you
extracted yourself
from the wreckage,
wanting space
between you and the
painful rift
you’d ruthlessly,
thoughtlessly,
carelessly
caused
between us.

“I’m not going anywhere”,
you’d said,
but then, unable
to resist,
you tacked
nasty remarks
on at the end,
stinging my
eyes with their
salty falseness.

“I’m not going anywhere”,
you’d said,
pointing fingers
that should have
been aimed at you,
before disappearing
behind your
double wall
of standards.

“I’m not going anywhere”,
you’d said.
Was this to
reassure me,
in the wake
of your leaving,
that you’d be back?

I will admit
I pondered this
from my new space
for days after I’d last
heard you weren’t
going anywhere.

“You may not be
going anywhere”,
I’m saying now,
“But didn’t you see?
I was already gone.”

I’d left
long before,
hurrying to safety
when I first
realized I didn’t
want you here,
with me anymore,
because we were
going nowhere.”

~ cj 2012.06.20