Only passing through

You and I know very well how we got here. It's easy. It's simple. There’s no pretending now. I’m not one to do that well. Nothing has changed. There is no reason for any change.  I’m patient, I’m catching my breath, I’m holding down forts, I’m forgetting, I’m forced, I’m veteran-ing, I’m picking up scraps, I’m unsentimental, I’m unnecessary. Mostly, I’m exhausted. I am breathing, aren’t I? Positing the impossible?  Being out of sight. Trying. Living. Understanding. What must I keep pleading for? What kind of revelation apart from the ones that already sting? What is new? It’s taken time, but I can hear myself breathe once again. Maybe the same goes for you. I can only imagine.

I know, I feel everything right down to my bones. Lately, you make me feel as though I should do otherwise. I have a heart, and in that heart, I know this would have evolved into a thing so unbelievably lovely and rewarding had you truly arrived with yourself.  But never in a thousand years would there be a place in my heart for the things you have done and continue to do.

I can only say to you that I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you will never truly know.  I’m sorry for loss. Perhaps you are protected from that.  Perhaps you have been hardened in the best ways humans can be hardened. Perhaps there are no more revelations.  If all that I see before me is true, I will have to close my eyes, pack up, take risks and imagine elsewhere once more. —Wanderer By Trade