streams… one

tuesday 24 may 2011

what was I to her, by the time it ended…   maybe just another bit she forced herself to do…  another disruption of solitude… don’t forget the dreaded expectations. she can’t stand expectations. self-involved to the core, but that shouldn’t have surprised me. shouldn’t have, but did…   what did she come looking for here…  I only know hints: the life of the mind…  godlessness…  a dead-end street that still exists, but doesn’t…  so what were the things that looked like caring, that looked like meeting expectations, that looked like open-heartedness? were they clever sleights-of-hand? were they genuine, but flimsy, couldn’t last?…   books, books, books…  not understanding that you can go past that… that things can happen that erase parts of you you thought were unerasable… having it so easy, by comparison, being so wrapped and comfortable…  wrapped up and comfortable and self-involved, but still wanted… wanted for the past, and the present too. wanted for the mind and the godlessness and the bitter poems and the gratitude of being wanted…  wanted to mail cards to… wanted for the words every day, the thread to another… wanting to be believed. would she want her thinking doubted. I could have doubted certain things, I could have thought her exaggerating, whining… could have, but didn’t. loyalty made belief and the past made belief, but why not both ways…

was I just one more great weight to be lifted…

tinkering with things she gave me… the things I can touch and the ones I can’t… tinker with the ones she wouldn’t give, know that it was only the one, that certain weighty one that I couldn’t get past… validity… no, no, on this I won’t agree to disagree, not on this failure to give character to character…  why not I’m sorry… why not this: I should have said your thoughts were possible, at least possible… I knew that we were dealing with a problem child… I should have said your thoughts were possible… why not I’m sorry…

because it doesn’t matter… another great weight has been lifted and why ask it back…  does it matter…


(photo by an anonymous contributor)

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