I’ve imagined you standing outside of my door-still, breathless and unaccustomed. Listening to my magical incantations spewing forth from my lips like tiny buckets filled with sludge from the aftermath of our war. Disappointments and an abandonment unified and obsolete.
I’ve imagined coming to the door, holding my hand to it and whispering that it is less arduous for you to hate me than it is for me to have lost you. And you will understand.
In the same thought, I’ve imagined intruding upon your lawn in the dead of fall to watch you rake your stories onto my feet, light a match and burn us to the ground. And all the lies you wished to reveal to me are merely moisture on the butt of your cigarette.
You know, after enjoying your encounter with the serpent here, I find myself drawn to the photo. We really do pay on the other side. Death, relationships, all tomorrows.
ReplyDeleteI'm speechless.
ReplyDeletebeautiful
ReplyDelete