Calypso

Before

I heard your obnoxious laugh from across the room,

my heart was like the sea—

free, and unobtainable.

But as I got up to leave

I mistakenly glanced in your direction and

saw the radiating glow of your

golden honey skin;

and at that moment I saw into the

depths of your mind.

Damn.

I

casually strolled into your presence

where we began to

d a n c e

with our words.

I marveled at our similarities and

the way you stared at me with those

dark, green eyes

a n d

crooked smile,

suggested you felt the

same.

Time

escaped me; I blinked, we were transported to your

apartment, ripping clothes off until our skin was bare.

I loved kissing on your

full, juicy lips;

and feeling your hips—on my body.

Your hips moved to the beat of the ocean

creating waves that enveloped my skin with…

pleasure.

Then you rocked us both into a peaceful

slumber.

Days

passed and you became a permanent resident

of my mind. My fingers grew

a n x i o u s

unless they were texting you. I enjoyed cuddling,

resting in your presence—discovering the

constellations of your beauty

hidden in your freckles.

We developed an

undying love—

parading around the phrase, “I love you”

like a game of

Taboo.

Until

the day came when you had to leave. We 

knew our love was

t e m p o r a r y;

for we were characters from

two different stories. We began to speak like

s t r a n g e r s

with a subtext of lovers as I painfully watched you

drift away from me.

You looked at me with your now

soft, green eyes

as if you saw into the depths of my

mind.

I

took one final

g l a n c e

and felt the radiating glow of your

golden, honey skin;

and wish I had said,

"I love you."

Damn.

Behind the Poem

Calypso isn’t my love story. It’s the story of one of my good friends and his former lover—a story that makes me ask three questions.

Why do we hold back what we’re feeling and let things go unsaid?

This poem explores what happens when two people parade around their feelings “like a game of Taboo.”

We’ve all heard the saying, “Actions speak louder than words.” And sometimes they do. We want the way we show up, the time we spend together, and the things we do for someone to communicate everything we’re afraid to say.

But there are moments when our words need to speak just as loudly as our actions.

Our feelings can be real without ever being spoken, but we can’t expect someone to fully understand the depth of what we feel if we never give those feelings a voice.

Sometimes, the only way to fully express our love for someone is to allow the words “I love you” to dance off our tongue. 

Is love only real if it lasts forever?

I think we have this idea that love is only legitimate if it lasts a lifetime. If a relationship ends, we start questioning whether the love was ever real in the first place.

I’m not sure I agree.

There is definitely something special about a love that stands the test of time. Growing together, changing together, and continuing to choose one another over the course of a lifetime is beautiful.

But I don’t think permanence is the only evidence that love was real.

Sometimes love is seasonal. Sometimes two people can genuinely love one another and still recognize that they aren’t meant to spend the rest of their lives together. That doesn’t necessarily make what they shared fake. It doesn’t erase the memories they created, what they learned about themselves, or the ways they may have changed because they knew one another.

Maybe something doesn’t have to last forever for it to have mattered.

What’s worse: being emotionally vulnerable or living with regret?

There’s risk in telling someone how you truly feel.

What if they don’t feel the same way? What if saying it changes the relationship? What if being completely honest leaves you exposed in a way you weren’t prepared for?

Sometimes silence feels safer.

But silence carries its own risk.

At the end of Calypso, the relationship has run its course. Two people who once danced with their words have become “strangers with the subtext of lovers.”  And with one final glance comes the realization that there’s something he wishes he had said while he still had the opportunity:

“I love you.”

That’s what stays with me about this poem.

We spend so much time protecting ourselves from the possibility of rejection that we don’t always consider the possibility of regret.

While Calypso isn’t my love story, writing it taught me something about how I want to live mine.

I think I’d rather risk expressing how I truly feel than spend the rest of my life wondering:

What if I had just said it?

Beyond the Blog:

If you knew you might not get another opportunity, what would you finally allow yourself to say?

Calypso is featured in my poetry collection, Behind the Smile. If this reflection resonated with you, explore the book for more poetry about love, identity, faith, healing, and the experiences that shaped me.