To yourself, for yourself - not to me, for me,
That you still feel things,
Stabs, jabs, zings,
Not about me....

But about a certain someone who
You loved and who you thought loved you,
One you invested,
dared to wish
into your life.

Imagine now, for your own sake only,
That those feelings, aches, stings
Were enlarged,
Compounded,
Ten-fold,
And
Suitable to a manifest destiny.
That they wound, resonating and throbbing
In every one
Of your lifetime's wounds,
Reminiscences from all your battles lost.

Imagine your indigenous heart
Throttled by the unrelenting pain.
Imagine, if you dare,
Existence threatened.
Extinction eminent.

Admit then-
Just an unwhispered,
Personal secret knowledge,
That you saw it coming,
That you could dodge that phalanx of feelings,
Choose another less dangerous path.

Loving you still,
I hope you would choose the safer way.

I wish you could,
Admit all that,
And,
Kind as you are,
Understand why and that and what I must do,
And bless me on my way.