Blog loving WRITING

first. last.



First thoughts upon waking – imagination walking a yoyo like a dog through a worn path, undecided whether to turn around, close my eyes and think upon yet another instead of old haunts. I held the rope.

Next thoughts were of an old girlfriend he slept with, then the time it was just the two of us camping when he went outside to call his ex-wife.  One was still in love and the other was at minimum still her errand boy but likely more. I needed years of clues, both obvious and not before trusting myself to see the truth. I seem to have been more comfortable giving myself away as diversion rather than taking pains to understand the value of a permanent embrace but after all this time on earth I’m doubtful such a thing exists.

Last thoughts before sleeping –  this ongoing care seems solid and with nothing to compare the effort to is still a challenge to receive. I’m still her, unsure if perceived as threatening, wounded or looked after as wanted, yet positive that on some level it doesn’t matter until it does.  Tonight it does, because being scared turns my surroundings to ice and beneath these blankets I’m chilled to the bone with memories I can’t touch.

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