Crossroads by Louise Glück

My body, now that we will not be traveling together much longer I begin to feel a new tenderness toward you, very raw and unfamiliar, like what I remember of love when I was young – love that was so often foolish in its objectives but never in its choices, its intensities Too much demanded in advance, too much that could not be promised – My soul has been so fearful, so violent; forgive its brutality. As though it were that soul, my hand moves over you cautiously, not wishing to give offense but eager, finally, to achieve expression as substance: it is not the earth I will miss, it is you I will miss.