Love, Nevertheless

Of course, she will have found someone else.
It won’t matter how many times
you strike your head against the wall for atonement—
to repent the sins already done—
It won’t matter.
She will have found someone else.

As the wheel of time will turn,
you’ll be dragged by it, again and again—unwillingly.
You’ll meet someone else, too.

But when you pass the coffee shop
you used to go with her, holding her hand,
she’ll return again, but this time, only for a second—
and sit on the chair you will have pulled
for someone else you just met.

You’ll look at her
as she sits there—
her fluttering hair disturbing
the soft voice escaping
her rose-petal lips.
You’ll see her again,
but in someone else.
And you’ll love her again and again,
but not the someone else you recently met.

Meanwhile, she will have already met someone else.
He will pull the chair for her,
and as she sits there with him,
she’ll read him poems that once were meant for you.
For a brief moment,
your silhouette will linger around her,
reminding her of the time she used to love you.
She will understand the wheel of time—
that the past was meant to learn from,
and to be forgotten.

You—
foolish boy—
will linger around her shadow,
strike your head against the wall for atonement,
pour the whisky, tell your friends,
“I love her, nevertheless.”
But she will have found someone else.
And you—
you will still love her, nevertheless.

What about your someone else?