I have a conflicting relationship with “goodbye.” We’ve never meant it, really, to each other. It was always a test. Always temporary. Always fleeting. A sinuous whisper of both regret and hope – I never mean it. Meant it. Behind every goodbye I’ve ever wished has been that crouched, aching morsel of what… whatever it is that makes the other turn, and maybe look at me. Maybe wish for some other outcome. Maybe pray for another chance, or perhaps another wistful glance at the frustrating “coulda shoulda woulda” that dances me from this to that in my upsetting experience so far. My heart has been broken. It resonates, and I try to just let it drop off the walls once it hits, but sometimes it just sticks… and I can’t scrape it off. I just watch whatever it was I gave over and over and over smear down the wall like paint. THAT is what it was. Reduced to this. Reduced to these words, which means I’m just grabbing at straws to justify this pain that results from loss. We all lose. We all try. And risk. And hope. And sometimes, we lose. Sometimes our hopes are far greater than the reality grasped in our fists. Sometimes, we squeeze so tightly; all that is left is just a powder on our palms.
Somewhere in this ether I can find your answers. Your approval. Your advice. Your fears. Your regrets and mistakes. Your passion. Your love. More and more of it can’t be grabbed in these hands – it’s disappearing… the tangibility of you. Your voice is in here somewhere, calling me…
In what language should I answer?
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We all should have been prepared for this.
ReplyDeleteThere was no other real outcome. But who can predict reality?
Know that this was the reality we we were not prepared to accept.
Here we are.
There is so much to define.
But definition asks us too much of us sometimes.
Be happy knowing you are loved.