Cruel as ever, I trick myself into waking up. Lying in bed those last few minutes is torture. I have to force myself back to calm, back to the moment. And back to a worse realization of sorts.
It's going to rain again today. The sky whispers deep promises that echo between these windows threateningly. I'm shivering, always cold lately.
And I'm wondering, too, who I hurt more between you two. One from confession, and the other from silence. I separate your memories carefully, afraid to mix them up. It would be difficult, but with my mind these days I cannot quite be sure.
When we used to lie together downstairs in Florida, I'd lay across her lap and we'd watch the storm together, tearing across the canal with all its fury, watch the water slowly rise. She said the power of nature turned her on. She doesn't say much anymore.
On the other hand, I feel so protective when you press close, begging me to sit with you to ride out the worst of it. We strive to make each other laugh, because I love hearing you laugh. And knowing you'll be gone soon is something else entirely.
I'm lucky in the sense that I had her, and you, for a time. And I'm lucky I hold no expectations for either.
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Lived & Died Where Worlds Collide
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