“Without Further Ado”

Prologue: What I’ve posted below is one of several unpublished poems that I’ve written about someone whom I briefly dated in 2015. This particular poem was written about a half a year ago, at a time when I still had tears to shed over her. Shortly after I wrote it, however, it became painfully clear to me that my love for her was never reciprocated, nor could it ever be. And it was at that moment that my healing process finally began. I suppose it’s never too late to accept a loss and move on. But there will always be a part of me that still loves her, as well as certain memories that she can never destroy (no matter how hard she tries).

I’m glad I kept all of the writings that I’ve accumulated over these past two years. They were painful memories, and still are. But they are mine, and that’s the one thing she can never take away from me. I learned this valuable lesson a few years ago while watching a documentary about one of my favorite poets/songwriters, Leonard Cohen. It was in this documentary that Bono, singer of U2, had said — and I’m quoting this only from memory — “There are probably things that Leonard discarded in the trash that would humble another writer.” Truer words have never been uttered, and it taught me to never throw out things that I’ve written or felt, even if those feelings no longer exist.

Well, there are so many things that I’ve written about this particular person over the past two years — some of which were published, while others were not — some of which were written purely out of love, while others were written out of anger. But I’m glad I’ve saved them all. What I wouldn’t give to be able to sift through Leonard’s trash. And what I wouldn’t give to be able to sort things out with the greatest love of my life, even though she treated our relationship like trash. So, “without further ado,” here are the last words of love I had written about someone whom I meant absolutely nothing to.

“Without Further Ado”

Nothing seems real since you’re gone

And my flesh feels like a blank canvas

But I no longer bleed red

I only spill black and blue

And only for you

So, accept me as I was

Or take me as I am

But take me, for I am yours

And always was

And forever shall be

Devoted to you

— David Allen

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