I give you these things, with no rancour or regret
those sonnets I wrote
and other words less lofty
in their imagined flights of fanciful longing
the arrows for my bow
the pictures of you that still hang on the walls
and the walls themselves
My guitars and my songs both of beauty and of loss
I give you the table where we sat
and ate what I had made
I give you the bed where we would lie
so safe in each other’s embrace
I give you the remnants of my soul
I give you the place where once there were
always flowers placed there just for you
I give you a faded memory of love
I give you the gifts that you never claimed
now lying in boxes on the dresser
I give you the desk where I wrote for you
those lines you used to say you loved
I give you my heart in all fullness
which was ever yours
I give these scars both new and old
the left-over wreckage that bound
and I hope I leave no scar on you
no memory of the love I feel or the lies of love you spoke
I give you what you said
that you had never felt love like this
I give you the richness of life
I give you my forgiveness
I do not give you sorrow or tears of grief
or the right to lament
for such would be foolish in this time
you abrogated that right some time past
instead I give you this love eternal
though you quickly forget and forswear
I do not give you the right to weep
not one single teardrop should fall
from your blue eyes in this moment
I do not give you the right to grieve or to mourn or to pity
I give you, as I once promised, those pictures of me
So long deleted
Those saffron flowers and broken dreams
I give you this breath
I give you this heartbeat
I give you this last vacant stare
forgive me as I have forgiven you

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