The man I could rely on

After reading a Keats' sonnet

Here. This is the life I didn't have.
The man looked at me with sadness
Conspicuously
I easily detach from him.
Once and over and over again.

Every day is a new detaching.
A new death and a new love.
A new burn and a new urn.

Every day I begin in him.
I rely on him and distrust myself.
I've drawn a line around.

It's because
I did not believe your "always"
That I never blame your lightness.

That is why.

He's the man I could rely on
I thought,
I wish,
I do.