I’m sorry to say, to have to admit
that your head was my foothold,
sockets of your eyes, handholds.
If I’d gone around, I might have fallen.
But if I’d gone through you, I wouldn’t
be standing here to explain, would I?
Instead I went over and beyond
and saw the lights that everyone
talks about, but you never did see.
Sorry you can’t forget. I’ve moved on,
though your head was my foothold,
gouges in your eyes, my handholds.
#### Poet’s Notes ####
If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment below!
(I won’t delete rude comments, I’ll just reuse them in a poem — with attribution. ;-))
The image of the initial draft is below: