R.M. Dolin, January 21, 2024
Everything’s terminal,
fleeting at an accelerated rate of evaporation.
The best we can do is make it through unscathed
but in reality, we’re all damaged goods
doing our best to not wilt
and dither in high desert heat.
My kisses once stole your breath,
leaving you gasping for air. My touch
once burned you with a melody of magic and madness.
We made love to the music of
a rain forest at dawn, soft sweat dripping
around your supple contours with
a passion driven to desire's ultimate destination
in a way that could only be quenched
when our two souls embraced in
suffocating silence.
I can’t pretend to know the depths
of your damage but watch the way
you enter every room with an eye on
leaving. There's no way for me to understand why
you fear things you feel you don’t deserve
even though my bond’s eternal.
I can't stand in judgement
any more than I can love
an always leaving girl,
that’s the damage in my diagnosis.
Background poem for the novel, “The Dangling Conversation.” Kyle rationalizes why Nadia’s always leaving while admitting a consequence is his heart hardening its feelings.
