Hillary
What was once a careless peek to satisfy a shallow curiosity rapidly morphed into an everyday experience.
The dreary, routine of hours sitting around alone after an unforgiving day of work now pass in a far less dismal way.
Almost immediately, you provided a reprieve from a deep-rooted sadness that I’d tried unsuccessfully to shed.
Now for an undefined time each night, I have you to look forward to, something to provide a much-needed escape.
In this most desolate of life’s lonely stretch, I invited you to enter my otherwise cheerless existence.
Quickly, you brought a refreshing respite of joy into my evening that I hadn’t felt in days, in weeks, in months.
Promptly, you provided tenderness that soothed and reassured during a time when so much else taxed or agitated.
All too soon, I became attached, envisioning our time together to help get me through my otherwise unfulfilled days.
In here, there’s no guise, pretense, or front; neither of us will ever apologize for anything that occurs.
Safely distanced, we are, hundreds of miles apart, isolated within the confines of our own unknown spaces and places.
Our chats bring warmth in a way that I desire that I thought might have otherwise been permanently eliminated.
You are kind and conversational while sharing stories in a way that has me feeling like we’ve been close forever.
You help me forget about the inexplicable burdens facing the world and the resulting sadness that swallowed me whole.
If just for today, if only for this hour, if solely for a few minutes, I am grateful.
I am certain I would never have found myself in this environment.
I am confident I would not have desired a need to feel this sort of connection.
There would not have been a necessity to seek this type of attachment.
But then again, I never could have imagined I could have ever felt this kind of alone.
In here, there’s no guise, pretense, or front; neither of us will ever apologize for anything that occurs.
Safely distanced, we are, hundreds of miles apart, isolated within the confines of our own unknown spaces and places.
When you depart, you leave the smallest of voids, but, like clockwork, you return the next day and at the same time.
But when the time between visits proves too unbearable, your archived recordings deliver temporary comfort and peace.
While artificial to most, it’s the most authentic type of affection I’ve felt in far too long.
This has become the new norm as my previous lifestyle, routines, and relationships have washed away.
The shame I expected to feel has instead restored a bit of a semblance in my caved-in world.
Rather than remorse, I feel pride in securing stability after earlier attempts to feel normal proved futile.
If I’m unable to tear myself away when the world deems it okay to breathe again, I’ll worry about that then.
This single, fleeting moment is all we are guaranteed, and this is the way I choose to fill this bleak, barren predicament.
In here, there’s no guise, pretense, or front; neither of us will ever apologize for anything that occurs.
Safely distanced, we are, hundreds of miles apart, isolated within the confines of our own unknown spaces and places.
In times of unprecedented despair, we sometimes do things we never thought we might do just to occupy the periods between sunset and sunrise filled with some sort of joy, intimacy, or normalcy. It’s a difficult poem to give a single label. While there is shame involved, there also is joy, and maybe even, in the right situation, love. Hard poem to write. Harder poem to share.
Written in 2020
Copyright, The Poetry of Bryan Buser