I hope all is well with you.
I saw you on PBS tonight and you looked fabulous.
I’d read everything you’ve written
heard about the ashram and the awards.
You didn’t mention a lover
but you looked happy
so I’m guessing you’ve another one now.
You’ve earned what so many dream of.
It's nice to know you’re doing well.
Things are fine with me.
I have a more or less happy family
and a nice career at the college.
The obligatory house in the suburbs
and a cute dog from central casting.
Every once in a while I scratch out a poem
and share it with a few people who seem to like it.
I can’t complain.
Do you ever wonder why I didn’t choose you?
Sometimes I wonder that myself.
I recall a younger me wracked by fear.
Back then I thought nothing about
skiing off cliffs or jumping out of planes.
But the idea of not writing well
or needing years to learn a craft
when everything else came fast and easy
or writing well yet being ignored
I was not strong enough for any of these possibilities.
I was not strong enough for you.
By now it should be clear that I miss you.
How stupid is that since I gave up on you
and not the other way around?
Know this: if I had to do it over again
things might have been different.
I might have chosen you.
And right now I am wondering about
yet another possibility.
You have your life and I have mine.
But tell me, lover of my past life
if I said yes to you now
what would you do?
(inspired by napowrimo Day 11 prompt: the things you didn't choose)