You took my hand when I was ready to wield a gun, and you made me love you in the midst of something I couldnāt even explain. You took me and freed me and I couldnāt figure out what to do without my chains. You let me off my leash and all I could think of was running at your heels and keeping step with every word you spoke.
What was wrong with me then? What about you still plagues me now?
It canāt be your hair, the way itās grown since we last spoke. It isnāt your clothesāyou never dressed as well as I did. Well, there was that one time. When you burst into my life again with surprise after surprise layered over you like the expensive new suit I much preferred over the one you wore in mourning.
(I understood that, much as I hate to admit defeat. I, too, have suffered loss.)
The point of this is to say: I hate you. I adore you. I cannot live this life any longer, knowing you are out there and might even be waiting for my return. So I will come back to you, of course. Donāt expect a ceremony. My heart bleeds already at the thought of you.
āas i returnā by lighte (12/6/22)