What I'd like right this minute is to run away. Not just a little away, a lot away. Far away. Away away. That is how it feels, just now, as the night wraps around this house, these walls, bulbs unchanged, not sure which rooms even have light anymore, and don't much care. Light, overrated. So I would run someplace dark, someplace with a sea, a dark sea, the image burned into my core of the sea at night, waves keeping time with my heart.
If everyone who ever loved you wore a disguise, how would you know? You can't know on your mother's knee that her face is not her face, that her eyes aren't looking, not quite, at you. And when another takes your heart, how would you know whose face is whose? You might wonder, but you don't know. You never learned what is is.
When humans are broken, their edges jab one against the other, cutting, not meaning to, not even knowing where your edges end and theirs begin.
Is it love, is it mine, is it us, is it still, is it death, is it pain, is it healing, is it growth, is it joy, is it wonder.
Is it?
