gripping air

It’s not you I hold on to
It’s the emotion you bring,
The heart’s swelling joy,
and agonizing longing;
the expectation of choices
made that will include
consideration of feelings for two;
the knowledge that with each
second passing in absence
anxiety erupts at mere
thoughts of my presence.

It isn’t you I hold on to
‘tis the passion you invoke;
extremes of blissful and wistful,
endless quarrelling leaving me soaked
in anger, disgusted to speak or even see a face,
tired and almost drained of God’s grace;
the thought that its better to have bittersweet,
to know intense feelings of love, though I grieve.

It is not you I hold on to
It is disappointment that replaced
deep love for a friend who just walked away,
the remnant pieces of a careless heart
with vague shadows of a union in its path,
interactions of people no longer existing
except in a mind set back in time;
the reality of having none take the fall,
none other but me for holding on at all.