Eulogy

I don't need to tell you my stories
maybe I'm not so spellbound
as I used to be
by who I used to be
because I have told them
too many times, in too many places
across the country
and back again
in beds, in bars, in support groups
preaching to a choir
who never bothered
to expand their repertoire
same song every
never ending day
over and over and over again
over drinks and under cover
or maybe I just
like this story better
the one that begins with
a shared pot of coffee
and ends with kissing you goodnight
and in between
I slip inside
the spaces you create for me
and me alone
maybe I like leaving dead things
where they fell
in order to turn my attention to
the living
I told those stories until they
gave up the ghost
until the echoes grew quiet
enough for me to hear
my own breath
until I picked up a pen
and drew lines through
the parts that didn't work
the words better
left unspoken
edit and revise
until the pieces fit
and I found
myself
and fell into your arms
soft skin
and silent conversation
where heartbreak
just means cracked
wide open, because it
wasn't big enough
to hold this much light
and it ceased to
matter
who had done what to whom
where and why
gave way
to here and now
this is mine
and I won't sacrifice
another minute
to the walking wounded
who choose
to pick the scabs off
then
cry because they are
bleeding
or cut down
living things and call
it an act
of love
I don't need to tell you
my stories
the ones that never
really belonged to me
when we have
endless nights
of kids who won't go
to sleep
or stop banging on
the bedroom door
when we're busy
telling stories
in the half-dark
and days of long
walks and longer
workdays
and messy kitchens
and interrupted phone
calls
hold that thoughts
and growing old
together
creating roadmaps
of a shared past
in
the roped veins
of our hands
empty nest syndrome
and finding each
other
again and again
as life turns us over
like the new
leaf we are
I'm burning the book
we
can hold a funeral
on Saturday
and invite
the neighbors
we'll tell them
it's a birthday
party and serve
cake and champagne
post a sign
on the front gate
with balloons
and streamers
tell them to wear
black and big hats
and
we can all pretend to
cry
until we do
because it is so fucking
beautiful to be
alive