All The Way To Denver Poem by Benjamin Feliciano

Wherein does the point lay in continuing to express my love to her?
An evening spent in a driveway led her to confess she was no longer sure
Of whether or not her feelings were romantic.
Though outside calm, inside I became frantic.
How long had I spent by her side?
Through my girls and her guys,
Through our mistakes and my lies.
True, I was to blame for the dysfunction of our relationship,
But a boy she knew 8 months or less can replace all it?
Who am I apart from her, and where then shall I stand?
In spite of living two states away, I still feel my heart beat in her hand.
I hear she fell in love anew,
If I could live as the reader not the writer I would live vicariously through
you.
For that way this would bear no semblance to my own existence,
And I could leave these words behind as soon as I backspaced this.
Instead I'm left convincing myself I'm fine,
While where she is now seems another place, another time.
My dearest Marie, I know not what to ask.
So instead I present this poem, quite possible my last
Addressed to you, although many more may come.
Because no matter how far from me you are, the labor of my heart is not yet
done.
One day, perhaps in resignation I'll lapse.
And with infinite contrition collapse.
As I realize I've finally given up on you,
And recognize my fantasies were never true.
The blame I take upon myself,
Is that of my actions and my wealth
Of inefficiencies in the field of lover.
For twas I who doomed us apart from one other.
With love I take my leave again:
Your greatest adversary, your greatest friend.