Dream Life

                                         I want to talk about the aftermath of love,     not the honeymoon or the hitherto;     but the upshot and the convalescence,     the slow, hard hauling --the heavy tow. I want to tell you about those evenings,      that crept inside like a vagrant cat;      and cast around its drawn out shadow,      untoward--- insufferably black. I want to write about the mornings,      the sterility of the stark, cold lights;      struck against a pair of bare shoulders,      the lurid whisper of a misspent night. I want to convey the afternoon setting,      the water torture of the sink;      drip by drip, the clock and its ticking,      and too much time left now to think.

                                                                                   I am slowly learning what it means to be human. I am slowly learning how to forgive the past. How to accept that sometimes beautiful things end, that sometimes the timing isn't right, that sometimes the messiness of life gets in the way, I am slowly learning that endings aren't something to be upset about, but rather, I am slowly learning how to appreciate how damn lucky I was to experience something real and hopeful and light in a world that sometimes fails to be soft. I am slowly learning how to be alone. I am slowly learning how to wake up in the middle of the bed. How to make just one cup of coffee in the mornings. How to hold my own heart, how to take up my own space. I am slowly learning how ...