Ode to Boston

I don’t know how to define you.

Even with the clarity of distance,

I still can’t untangle the myriad threads

That bound us together.

And I’m sorry I left you

The way I did

Abruptly,

Without closure,

No chance to grieve

Our sordid collective history.

But I’m not sorry I left.

The joy became harder and harder to find,

Like pale shards of light

Seeping through cracks

In dingy basement walls.

And the graciousness

I once found in you

Faded to a grudging resignation

To a promise made in

The naivete of youth.

Whereas once I had found

Comfort and peace

In your arms,

I began to only feel stifled,

As we both dragged each other

Further down,

Desperately clinging

To every bit of warmth remaining

In the corpse of

Our decayed love.

But I haven’t forgotten

The beauty of the beginning,

When you were wide open to me,

The personification of hope.

I was a young girl drowning

Under the weight of mediocrity,

And you were like surfacing for air.

Traversing the undiscovered terrain

Of your supple body

Was my awakening.

And there were days

When you were all I needed,

Where we sat

In the stillness together.

And you made me believe

In the possibility of the future.

And then some days,

I was so tired,

You were all that kept me

Moving forward.

But I overstayed my welcome;

It was my fault.

For sticking around,

Grasping at a faded memory.

So, I left silently,

Without fanfare.

Because the reality is,

Despite the inevitable erosion

Of time and miles,

Parts of you still live within me.