Seven

when she walked out,
i waltzed around the place where it ended,
and it should have been sooner,
and different than it was.
but she walked out,
and walked out well.
so i was left there grinning,
and spinning on the wood floor,
at my mother's place.
forward.
right.
back.
left.
we learn from our mistakes,
to never make them again.
i know what love isn't.
we move on when things are wrong,
to something we didn't expect,
and find shelter in it.
four years have passed,
two have been perfect.
one golden ring,
and i know what love is.
when she walked out,
i waltzed around the place where it ended.
and i don't dance alone,
i dance around the living room,
of our new apartment,
on the corner of main street,
and i am dancing now with you.