I spent most of my years going to the secret gardens in my mind, truly only I had the key to get to. When I lost the key I spent a lot of time perched in the dark, but I was never a cowboy like you until I started hustling for the good life.

When you had the password, I let you in the door. But I hadn’t been there for so long that it had splintered back in the winter from  the Rhode Island set. When you rode back up on the afternoon train, it was sunny, and I could never stop the ivy from planting roots all over my dreamland.

I should’ve known when the puzzle pieces fit too right, but no other sadness in the world would do. Going back to December all the time, you were losing me as the woman by the window turned out the light. And it wasn’t the skeletons in our closets, because I had seen this film before.

And I don’t know if I forgive you for holding on to the  days, because I’ll never walk Cornelia Street again. Perspective was earned, so it’s never lost, but how the hell’d we let the Opalite sky go Maroon? I danced through so many lightning strikes I thought we had it right once, twice. But we did not.

The promises were always oceans deep, but also meant to keep. And it screwed me up forever giving different meaning to my dearest, ‘Darling’. I’ll forever chase shadows in the grocery line, but I don’t think I’ll ever again stand in that front porch light.

I don’t sit at the table every day anymore. But when I do go to read the manuscript, the unsuspecting waiters ask for a moment as they wipe down the couple of drink rings left over. They let me know someone else prefers that table occasionally enough too. And even better, they also read The Prophecy about living for the hope of it all because of the darkest shade of blue.

Had my best laid plan,
Not my kingdom come undone.
“Shelby, the Haiku.”