I Can't Make You Love Me

I went for a jog here recently. Running in the neighborhood nearest to my house, I inevitably came to that dead end where we used to park. It's an odd sort of feeling, standing all alone, especially in a place where we spent so much time together. The weather was so muggy then. We would stand under those stars until both of us were drenched in sweat. Now the air has grown cold and bitter. The stars are still here, but tonight I stand under them alone.

Planted firmly on the outside, I look down this small broken stretch of road. I replay every moment safely until the air is soaked with the scent of your hair. In a frenzy I take off, sprinting to the end of the lane. My feet dreadfully linger in every stride towards the middle of the road. When I reach the end, I feel it. That same feeling of loss that I have experienced at funerals, the same feeling you get when you bury a pet. It is as if our love has experienced a physical death and I am succumbing to the pain of it's absence.

Turning around, I make my second jog down the dead end. I used to think of this as a pit stop for us. I was certain that we would recount those days to grandchildren. With every step, my eyes fog up through sour tears. The memories of you and us form a pool that I can not swim in. I stop towards the center and gasp for air. Yet still, the only thing I breathe in is the smell of hair conditioner, and all our broken promises.