*** It seems this is the week for exposing skeletons in my closet. I have been going through old books and stale thoughts from a few years ago and have come up with some bones that still have meat on them. This was written about my divorce, and it was the last thing I wrote before my house fire. It speaks loudly of the pain I felt, but also of my resignation. December, 2008.
I laughed when first I heard it.
The carefree, oblivious laughter of one who believes the ground upon which she is standing to be solid,
Never knowing of that small brown spot of rot that was, even then, burrowing it’s way into the flesh of our love… Like a maggot into the core of a sweet summer apple.
I lay here now mourning the loss of you as if you had truly gone, as if the death of our love were a tangible thing, which had scraped it’s way across my throat sore from tears and rage, to settle in that secret spot upon my tongue where once I held your name… Cradled in the moist, hot bed of my mouth, awaiting your ear lobe to receive it.
Now gone are my days of selfless devotion and blind naiveté. Fled on silent, stealthy wings into the nights we lay apart. Never daring to speak for the fear of what could escape us in anger, those words like barbs we could not remove in the morning… So we locked them behind the iron bars of our teeth and choked on the bile of it.
I could point my finger at you, but mine would be just as dirty, and you can’t hang anything on me because I am weightless at the moment. I cannot be held down by the chains of your deception, nor guilt for leaving you to lie on your bed of stones. You can’t accuse me of treachery for knowing when to jump from a sinking ship and learn to swim…
Even the circling of shark fins in the red water is preferable to drowning in your eyes just one more time…