I rejoice in thinking of you
without disharmony, —
in the ability of knowing
you no longer
own my most painful
rejection, my foolishness of heart,
that thought I held that I was something in your nothingness.
I can accept that I was a
stepping stone, a conquering underneath
to a higher plane of existence,
to memory long forgotten before
my perfume left your pillow.
Nov-92, revised 11–9-14