The Far Side

I’m learning what it is to function

on the far side of loving you—

not over you,

but far enough forward

to pretend I am.

Far enough that you don’t

absorb every thought,

that I stop measuring

everyone else

against your presence.

And if you can’t be mine,

then I have to learn

how to choose someone who is.

I try.

And even when they fall short—

and they always do—

I bury that truth

somewhere quiet in me.

There are a few

who almost make it easy,

who briefly

hold my attention

I appreciate their true intentions.

They mean well, they do.

I’m gentler with them.

Less sharp around the edges.

It isn’t their fault

they aren’t you.