An Unlove Poem

the leaves fell from the fruitless wonder
tossed aside by the wind, which came
from no where in particular.
It occurs to me now that no secret
can be kept, and people are not butterflies,
to pin down under glass.

I'd rather take this darkness by the shoulder
and sing, and sing, sing.
Then walk with fisted hands and a face
aimed towards the cracks in the pavement.

I have my pride. I have my pride.

I let you go.
(...this time believe it)
I let you go.