On The Existential

There I was looking for a theme.
You say, “it’s grief and loss, with a sprinkle of
growth at the prospect of new beginnings.”

I would hate to dwell.
But giving up my special talent
for reminiscing seems wasteful.

It is not exactly a happy turn,
not to be texted back.
But rather fitting that a
phantom is to be ghosted.

I knew how to land a blow.
Now I know how to take it.
Did you see it coming?
Did you hear any warning calls?

You petitioned. I abide.
There is no more
dread or discomfort.
So the colors rise again,
and those pretty patterns return.

And we continue to survey this city.
Maybe one day you and I
will think about this fondly
and offer a tepid smile at
the fact that we survived
that prolonged rapture.