The City is Alive, But I am Dead

I never thought it would come to this
Walking uphill, icy sidewalk, cold wind
Towards the apartment we shared
The apartment you loved so much
The apartment we no longer share

It’s January and you’ve been gone
Two months now and I can’t grasp
I just can’t bring myself to understand
This sterile, quiet apartment in which
I can’t stand to spend one more day

“It wasn’t you it was me,” she said
Well that’s not entirely true
“You take care of everything,” she said
Everything except for some vague concept
Of needs based on emotions

“Give me time to learn,” I said
“You’re not capable,” she said
“I’ll show you,” I said
I’ll become a master of emotions
I’ll do it for me, if not for you

I walk out of a bar near my job
It’s cold but people are running about
Laughing, making plans, touching
I grow angry, resentful, lonely
I see a vision of you and me

Tomorrow he’ll leave an apartment
A high rise on 15th street northwest
He’ll shiver but feel more alive
More alive than he’s ever felt
While the city is dead around him

For me those days are gone
I fear they’re never to return
I walk around with my head down
Other rush around me
This city is alive, but I am dead.

(see part one of this poem, The City is Dead, But We Are Alive)

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