For Yana

It all happened so long ago

That hurt was heavy, and so long ago.
In the nights I wasn't sleeping, I'd shovel
on the snow. And put a favourite podcast
on, to drown out the noise, my mental
narrative, far from a symphony of joy.

But it was actually formative, building
that gap, extracting you from my life
and not looking back.

That was about the time I neatened my
hair. Got a proper cut, and noticed they'd
stare. The black t-shirts came on,
and I got all moody - The Smiths, The Cure
- the artist, my dear, has to be broody.

I put myself on Tinder, and went on some
dates - discovered people could be
fickle... some didn't believe in soulmates.

I'm speaking of this now, because so
much time has passed, and I found a
new one, and I pray that it lasts. I have
to learn to cherish her, every day -
can't make those mistakes again
and throw everything away.

My promise to you is not revolutionary,
I want you to know that it was all
a lesson; I'm willing to learn.
I've got many tints to my new glasses
- it's a spectrum - even if it's now none of your concern.