Funeral of 'you and me'

I was dressed in all black,

while you and her wore white,

the complete opposite.

It was as if I’d been edited out

of your story,

wiped away like a speck of dust

from a beautiful painting,

or cut out of a picture

where I wasn't needed anymore.

Was it a coincidence?

I don’t want to know.

Because what if it was God

trying to tell me

I no longer belonged.

Just like a pigeon among doves,

like a black swan among the white ones,

that it was no longer

you and me,

but you letting go.

It was as if you buried our love

in my absence,

as if I were attending its funeral.

I mourned the dead

while its afterlife

lived on within you and her.

I remained there—

maybe I was the ghost

of what we were.