...it's been a long time... (aka 'those damn candles')

I took you so seriously,
that letter you wrote to me.
Your voice rose from a decade of times gone by
and my entire romantic history seeped from the raw pages
& soaked me in the nostalgic scent of old sweat & tears & breezes:
his fingers, her hair, his chest as I awoke embraced,
his anger as I fell asleep with my back turned.
Did your spite confirm all the digs from lovers past
I never wanted to believe?
Could you truly see my worst parts through
those years and miles?
And always you were one I trusted amidst
your 'delusions,' & sidestepping & understated profundity.
So your letter paused my being,
my whole life soaked through one moment, my breath hovered,
my eyes still, piercing the centerpoint of each love,
wondering.
This is what trust can do.
I don't allow it much anymore.
After all these years, after all the re-keying of my locks,
you reserved a secret passageway,
some door long forgotten,
left open all this time.
So you can imagine when you said the letter wasn't to me,
that it was meant for a recent lover during the bitter torrents of a breakup,
what had already blown through that open gateway.
And you can imagine the beautiful shock of hearing and believing
when you whispered through those open shutters,
"I love you. Your life is tremendous."