Two days now the snow has hung heavy in the naked trees like fruit. Wet, we need this.
I don’t want to grieve you
she said
And I do not want to grieve her either, though I sense I’ve been doing this for months. Now that we have breached, began the construction of a new bridge (leaking of a large dam?) it is odd. I grieve her in a new way. No longer in the distance, unreachable, pushing me into boxes alike, all scummed up in doubt. (dribble dribble will it burst?)
I see her as she has been lately. My truth has been tested and prevails, though I do not know her much anymore. Strange ebb, all things keep moving and between us an entire world lies, great chasm. It is not one I will drench yet. Immature. A word I have felt but she herself used. Why would she let it all sway so quickly? It’s been a strange, shadowing few years.
I hope you can open
I said
Let the new world in, colorful and varying. She is lost, not listening or on her own pedestal. I do not need this. She has made that clear.
It’s been that bad? People truly treat you this way?
coo coo she is in tears
What do you mean? If you treated me this way, imagine what others would do?
I respond, in batter brilliance. She was my soul,
silent now, face wet
blotchy.
All this, all this, blotchy blotchy disrespectful
Mess.
To see you, know now in confidence you simply haven’t thought. There lies, in the great chasm, a removed form of pity.
You are much larger than this, I know. Insolence is an ugly color but is setting me free.
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