How Long I’ve Loved You

Fifty-one years
Nine months
And four-days

Long suffering
Begging not to die
Begging to die

A yellow grass
Bent by the weight
Of your absence

And again I recall
Your buttery dress
The softness in your hair

Slipping through my
Failed fingers
The letting go

The not letting go
A talent for loving
What has been lost

Until it is found
And you are found
And I come into

An exact rightness
Eclipsing every mistake
Made along the way

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20 Comments

  1. Oh, this is pretty! The begging not to die/to die and letting go/not letting go are my favorite. On the surface it seems one wouldn’t do both, but it makes sense that we’d do both (especially with the knack for loving what has been lost 🙂 )

  2. finding your soul(mate) (whether that is in a person, or simply finding yourself, your own bliss) is such an incredible “rightness” isn’t it?

    this was so beautiful! Truly.

    • I wasn’t sure if my simple words butted up to the perfectly-worded given ending seemed “right.” I found this task difficult.

  3. This is so very lovely, Angie! The imagery in the third stanza is particularly beautiful.

    I hate to be a stickler, but I noticed that you tweaked the last line a bit, which is against the rules. For future reference, you must use the sentence exactly as it’s written, tense and all.

    • Thanks, for noticing Suzanne. Yes, i know I changed the words. It was particularly hard for me not to. It’s alright if I forgo any votes, and in the future, I will not submit if I cannot commit.

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