I made it back from my dog walk just as the slow rolling thunderstorm hit, and so I climbed back into my bed with the windows open and the breeze on my skin. I feel crappy this morning and I think it’s from dirty beer lines, because I only had two and was in bed early. It’s ok, though, I don’t have anywhere to be for a little while so I’m just going to float here a bit and listen to the rain and watch the lightning through my eyelids. Napping at 9:30 am like a boss.
We could have grown apart the old fashioned way- watched our love get old with the seasons. Maybe it would have left us in the fall. I could’ve written a poem about how winter felt without you.
We could have broken each other’s hearts quietly. It could have been sad but simple- you’d stop laughing at my jokes and I’d fall asleep before you even came to bed. Even if our love had to die, we didn’t have to rip it apart.
I want to go back in time and kiss our foreheads. I want to apologize to our younger selves for what we are going to do to them. I want to tell them to pack their things and leave in the night before they set each other on fire. Go. Go now. You don’t have any idea what is coming for you.
It didn’t have to hurt this much. I shouldn’t still be reeling. We could have watched our love grow old with the seasons.
I would like to be the recipient of the following sometime this week:
- A freshly made, still warm beignet
- Oral sex
One after the other.
Going to go sit in the sun with an iced coffee at my side, and work on a poem.
and as Cary said, work, work, work, get thee outside. I’m hanging laundry on the line, and continuing with the raspberry cane cluster flock, and touching up my roots with henna and indigo, and dealing with other hair situations, and putting laundry away, and pulling some dead plants out of the veggie garden, and cleaning the freezer, and cleaning out another kitchen cabinet, and generally trying to stay as busy as possible, all while singing my songs for the musical, and attempting to not hash my failed marriage in my head. That part’s the hardest. I can’t fathom this, but it’s happened, and is happening, and so I must find a way to live my life within this awfulness. Maybe someday my life won’t taste so sour and bitter on my tongue.