Irony: Twisted Fate or Poetry?

Irony: Twisted Fate or Poetry?

I reached for a lost memory today, anything to feel as if he is still a part of my world. It was a gift, his gift to me. It had been a Valentine’s Day present (our first, and what I had assumed would be one of many). It was a book of poems in which we laid in his bed and read many from it. I LOVED his voice! I loved the tone of it and the words which rolled out from his being soothed my soul! I told him that often; but I don’t if he really knew what a comfort it was to me?

There in the preface section, engraved with his inked note, laid written one of the first and the last messages he ever wrote me. There it was… as clear as it was the first time I ever read it: incredibly beautiful, tender, heart felt, and full of hope of the love that had began to blossom. It was inscribed “May we love until the end like Pablo & Matilde! A million kisses!” I noticed something in between the pages and as I flipped to it, that’s when it happened…

A card fell out from within the pages and landed at my feet.

At first I was thrown by the handwriting. It was mine. I expected his. Somehow I managed to have the card I had given him in my possession and the only thought that made it seem clear, was it must have been what we used to mark the book we use to read together.

I stood there staring in disbelief, as if the very sight of the card would cause my world to crumble. It did. There I dropped to my knees. In front of me lay the card, HIS card, and it was now on MY bedroom floor. The envelope was dated February 12, 2013. I almost tucked it back in the book without reading it; but I didn’t. I opened the card to find a penmanship all to familiar, one of a woman who was so grateful, held speechless and yet, found that very notion “brilliantly poetic”. It was signed off with, “Here is to the next fifty!” How poetic?! Of what page did it fall from you may wonder? Ahhh, you see that is what makes it brilliantly poetic! It was the book marker for the poem entitled, “When I decided…”

It simply made me cry. I wondered if he ever noticed he didn’t have it anymore? It was as if I was mourning the loss all over again. The “one” I have been so desperately trying to forget. When the thought occurred to me, more devastating than anything… I don’t even remember what his voice sounds like anymore!

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Pablo Neruda Love Poems

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