Love Poems Are Useless So I will Not Write You One

Sometimes it feels good to be alone,
to think, to find inspiration for a poem
written in the December snow, rupturing my gut
with a sword frozen like the Chicago winter.  
      
I speak in sub-text and intention    
to avoid saying what's really said,    
my voice cracking at 600 m.p.h.      
into the sky-An ocean with no water.      
   
The world dead-bolted to the canopy    
teaching me how to say good-bye  
though I am the one going away.    
     
My flight 15hrs 59mins, chasing    
Magellan's guided light to the other end    
for one last chance to be reborn    
to return back to the one place    
I never left.    
     
To break one last promise before I say    
"This will be the last time"    
before I leave on a journey    
I can't say no to.