The Heavy Lifting

The bathmat you pronounced as comforting was just the opposite,
I told you,
many Moons and Suns ago,
that hiccups made me claustrophobic,
but this, among many other rarities, you did not comprehend

You must have loved me once,
and I misunderstood,
misunderestimated that sentiment,
because it was always about timing, as they said

And when they said, "Timing is everything,"
I was certain they had not gone to the ends of this Earth,
that they had not witnessed the creases of your eyes,
that they were not privy to my Achilles' heel,
because like most,
they had shown up fashionably late

So when we danced around this rodeo,
and we bragged about our rounds of libations
and when we mocked each other because we didn't understand optimism,
not really,
not at all,

when we did all of this,
we marred something you put here,
on this hallowed ground,
something you had rightful ownership of,

and now,
only a plot of grass and dirt,
you finally rocked my scissors,
and took your place as heir to this shoebox of sorts,

But now I could take all the time in the world,
to string up your sarcophagus and tell everyone to lower their heads at the sight of this marble slab

if only you were alive now,
breathing good and well,
to stand here and hold that glass of water,
and scare the living holy hell out of me and my innards---