I Love You

Before your heart turned
break-your-back mean
you were giving
softer than a goblet of deep red Bordeaux.

For two years you and I followed the same path
making love between clean cotton sheets at sunrise
or
perhaps
many hours before

And at noon
in grape fields
littered with angular stones
that scratched divets in our backs
divets we laughed about while lathering one another in our open-air shower
kissing, wishing
hoping
for a child

Or at midnight, underneath moss-covered cliffs
my favorite
if the rain held

But the rain didn’t hold
Squall followed squall for 106 days
conjuring your anger and my angst

You declared you wanted freedom
Another life

The air I breathed smothered you
How could that be?
My fault?
Your fault?
No one’s?

Now, even as I leave you
hoping you find the man you want
all I can say is:

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.