conversation

There aren’t so many bolts from the blue, there aren’t so many you don’t says. I’ve been talking to you without your help for so long that I forget how far apart we were, and how much further you are now. How little I knew, how much more I do not know. Words I say each day to your radiant absence don’t amount to much in the world that is ravaging away all around us. Words I said to you never mattered all that much. This untended distance, this one side style was meant to leave me low. It has, but it has taught me what to hold.

Hold my tongue, don’t hold my breath. Once it goes south, there’s no resurrection. I am no longer welcome in your world, as I am not welcome in many worlds that were and are yet to be again. I was never invited, and I never will be. The more to the story I imagined or you missed. Clothed in devotion, looking for a way back out.

It’s sorry that it’s still you, and you aren’t even pretending anymore. I’m sorry that I still add to the embarrassments. I stick with your blood, I stick with your breath, the bones of your clever hands hanging beside your scuffed knees. The travels of cloth against your thighs, the troubles that come calling in your night. Your genius and your aspirations, your ravening direction and the self deception of your muddled intent. You among the bright and the beautiful, as it should be. I love you though you have turned away. I love you the way I should have all along.