I know that I loved you more than you loved me. It happens. To even the best of us. I have unloved people before, urgently wanting to make my heart beat in time with my body. Trying to match the arch of my back to the slight of your soul. Fumbling to turn on the little switch, the button behind my ear that would illuminate everything, but it does not happen without witchcraft, without stars, the moon. The air tonight smelled of hot summer with you, in the back country of my life. Years ago. A place where trees were kings and I opened my shirt to the wind. I tore my chest open with my bare hands and reached inside, I pulled out my heart. I gave it to you. We are always practicing love. We are constantly letting go.