Your whims were mercurial and cruel:
we would live like ascetic monks,
sexless, in the search for eternal life;
we would have an open relationship,
because our love should not be limited and selfish;
we would live apart,
so I could visit you when convenient.
You had the common and selfish desire
to dictate the terms of a relationship
and assumed your right to it so wholly
that your assumption nearly convinced me.
I used to think it was my love
that kept me cloying,
cleaving to your movements
even as they cleft me,
but now I know it was avoidance of an age
that would reveal
my own, less popular, heart.