Connect it.
...calls him every day
he took a kind of vacation
was heading for something
won't leave her alone
I'm writing nothing in hopes of finding something resembling what I feel. I'm full of things I should be saying, writing, thinking, feeling. None of them match what's really going on in my heart. What I know is not what I thought, what I thought is not what I know now.
I can't help but think back on all of the times I've been left, resigned. Pink slipped out of relationships, cheated out of real.
Nothing will measure up to the perfection I have built in my mind, and it creates doubts when it enters the equation. My abandonment things happen, when he worries about me losing touch, I laugh. I don't cut off. My life is evidence of this, all of the people who have just stopped with me, while I sit on the other end of their life. Hoping for some validation.
My stack of dishes makes me miss something. It's not anything I can say, it's not a dull ache, though I felt my chest scream last night. Enough to want to pull the cords off, the restraints.
It doesn't matter how cold I am, I can't let someone in without retort.
Wondering what he's doing because I can't hear him in the next room, and I can't see him at the kitchen table, and I can't know that he's not here any more.
The natural thing would be to keep telling myself what I knew on Friday, what I cried about on Saturday morning. But Sunday haunts me.
so she won't sleep better alone
and he won't sleep better alone
no they won't feel better alone