sweet sir galahad

this is for you
i know how months ago we wrapped things up between us like so much clutter and confused yarn
that now on the anniversary of the night you handed me a light,i have curled myself in with all that clutter and confused yarn.
i know now, sweet sir galahad, that you are not. much as i knew all throughout that i cotton-ed my wise-ness. like an extension of my myopic eyes,realities of situations faded into nothingness soon as they were out of reach of my elbows.
you are not the dream
you are not the haven
you are not the sliver of God on a platter
you are not my utopia
you are not
you are not
you are not
but you were gentle in your clumsiness
and you saw the pieces of me that was me
and you remembered every smile
and move.

sweet sir galahad, as you move through Paris with your long strides and kind eyes.
know
that some things should never be forgotten.