Seasons of Retrospect (Had We Never Met)

Nicholas Gagnier reimagines the past

FVR Publishing

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Try to let myself imagine we had never met.

Like you wish
aloud sometimes,
caught between
euphoria and
begging death.

I imagine I’d pass
you by serving
fine people we
couldn’t stand.

I would have
never grabbed
your hand for
its warmth,
just prior
to Christmas when
retail stores are
ridiculously packed.

I try to let myself imagine we’d never exchanged
a word,
like two ghosts on opposite sides
of mirrors,
future
and present.

I try to let myself forget
the investment felt
upon the first kiss,
lonely holiday bliss,
as all the
kids opened gifts, the
only one I ever
wanted already on
our lips.

There were years afterward
the metaphysical
shit
hit
oscillating fans,
but I never
stopped adoring,
or courting you
as mine.

I try to let myself imagine
my mattress had
never felt
your outline,
just erase your smell
from pillows because it’s
all my fault…

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