There is a certain cruelty in quiet nights
how they amplify everything I try to bury
in the slow drift of darkness
my thoughts are blooming like clockwork
I think of you and my heart aches
then the memories come flooding in
your eyes, that shifting ocean
where I tried to drown my doubt
I remember believing
that wanting was the same as being wanted
I remember how your attention
wound itself around my heart
but you never really chose me
it was always almost, always not yet or later
I lived on the edge of your partial devotion
but now, when I look into the mirror
I see the image of a woman who waited too long
that night-flower version of me blooming in darkness
because she forgot what sunlight feels like
outside, the wind begins to move through the trees
I open the window and let the wind in
and finally, I let it take the last remnants of you
©Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 