Creation of Oblivion

I was told I was amazing once.

Then it went away.

Was I not amazing anymore?

Or did her perceptions of my value diminish?

“I am not sexy or handsome”

The difference is love or

In love.

She spoke the latter, I am inclined to believe the former.

“Slow down”

The bitter preamble to a declaration of apathy

whose signal shines as brightly as the tail of a comet

journeying away from the sun.

“I don’t want to see you every day.”

Words that hurt like biblical sticks and stones.

I fought to believe her reticence in articulating

either compliment or desire were ineffable,

despite the actions and hesitations that spoke volumes.

When I sat broken and in tears, and she observed silent and

clinical a few feet away, I knew in my heart I was changed forever.

My passion and love saw a life (I dared to dream may be again)

plummet into a dark place.

So I sit with Sistine wonderment.

Seeing and dreaming what was almost within reach.

But what would Adam be

had God retracted his hand?

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