fomalhautb
I see the fraying rope, tethering me to all that I don't want to be; someone ago that I am trying to let go. It is gray and old but the last strings hold on still--I can't count the bitemarks, I can't feel the softness that comes only with time. That rope is still so rough, it never stopped being brand-new, even after being beaten and old. It doesn't fall away, it doesn't get easier. Holds me tighter to the metal, the dirt on the ground.
I thought I could have the happiness of this word, return, past tense-- "you have returned."
But I really do see that it couldn't have been any other way.
vis -- see.
I look everywhere for you; I don't see you anywhere.
I'm holding on to the window, afraid that I won't know you anymore if I can't see the world, living, breathing, BEING, outside of it. Because all I have is a map of everything, a place you told me you were at, a vague destination I will never reach; all I have is the idea that you are still alive in a world where I never knew you.
Heartbreak Toronto liar liar liar