Our secrets seem small until we see friends fleeing from the sound of their truth

Secrets deepen the longer they are held
Each one pill sized
Swallowed
Hidden from view
Left to bloom and grow
Working their way through limbs
Sapping strength
Choking heart
Catching tongue
And always the hesitation
To say what was
What you tell no one
Lest they scoff and say not real
Not you
The image before you cannot be who the festered darkness says you were
You know your secrets to be unpalatable
To be outrageous and impossible
To be true and heavy
Lead weights keeping you from the last mile
Last steps before true connection
Instead tending an inner garden of night blooming flowers
Each deadly and poisonous
What was done cannot be undone
Then what good will speaking do

Last twitch

There a flower grows
The yellow heat pours down
From a blue sky, soft rain patters staccato against leaves
The soft loam, smelling clean. Fresh earth and the crisp green of new growth
Fronds reaching out to the blue. Sun pounding down they drink their fill
Dew soaked grass, orange gold sunset and the failing light
The first blush of the darkness found amidst deepening shadows
Soft hushed, sounds quiet, the garden cools in the night air
The stars shine. While across the sky meteors fall like tears
The triumphant moon, full and ripe, arcs ascendant in a loving sky

 

This is the poem I wrote as my last relationship was ending. I wrote a each line in remembrance, over a period of 20 days, as I do not walk away. But It was over. Eventually, when other romance looms heavy, even I must shutter the past. As I did today. Not everything beautiful lasts forever. But sometimes that ending marks the beginning of something better.

Specific rules

I follow a particular ruleset that both broadly and specifically defines my actions. I’ve mentioned this before so I won’t get into the basics here, you can view them by searching this tag “rules” on the blog. I want to speak to a rule that dictates my behavior at the end of or the ending of a relationship. It is this; I don’t walk away. If I am not betrayed, I don’t walk away. So if whomever I’m with ghosts out, it leaves me in a quandry. I can neither walk away or talk with them about the relationship. It gets worse if I’ve actually stated that I will not walk away from them. In that case I am bound by my word to maintain the garden, as it were, awaiting their return. So there is no closure, and I still hope (because I’m a fool) but ultimately they are not coming back. But I still wait. And I wait until I’m in a relationship with someone else, at which point I must break off lest I betray my new paramour. It’s complicated but it’s what I’m thinking about.