The first was a tragedy

I unintentionally or intentionally killed a man

And heard that for years

He remained heavily unable

Wading through

Gathering up

And trying to hold together

Too many pieces of a false self, of a false, weak, world

Unable to know anything about love

 

The second was less tragic

And smaller

Hurt is easier to hold than hurting

Still weak

My weakness spread

Consuming me

Consuming him

And in the end, the weakness won

Proving stronger

 

The third was the smallest

Though a nobler failure

I tried

And in trying

Saw myself

The weak, needing, and empty part of myself

In him

And I began, finally

To understand.

 

Then this

The fourth

The first, really

The last and most perfect

As I realize it was never love

I was searching for

Or fighting toward

But us

And all the time and love and pain

Before

Was my deepest self

My strongest self

Struggling to find

Us