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I was glad to be your
fallback
ballast to your
dreams
comfort as you questioned
your life, your plans, your
needs

Now that you have
moved on
what is left for me
after I endured it all
for you
while aching
silently
what is left for me?

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Image Source: Paul Masck

The other side
of the bridge
(The wrong side
some would say)
Our first place
cramped and grimy
Two flights up
above the bodega
Humid and hot
kebob and curry
diesel and Marlboro
(And we thought
we had made it)

*This is my first real stab at poetry, and I owe it all to the analysis, encouragement and belief of Courtenay Bluebird. Thank you, mon amie.

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