yours in many definitions;

It’s written. Gotta sell it first, though.

Curious, I looked you up.

We’re both married now. Not to each other—obviously. That no I answered with resounding clarity echoes over time. Sometimes I wonder why I never regretted my answer, and sometimes I wonder if you ever regretted asking. Then I remember that friend’s marriage we went to witness, that hotel room we argued in after—both no longer exist.

I just celebrated five years with this man I couldn’t have conjured if the god you believe in gave me the power to create the person I thought was best for me.

I don’t know how long you’ve been with your person. But you look happy—truly happy.

That’s all I ever wanted for us.

Time really did tell, didn’t it?

Maybe it’s time to delete this blog.

Nah.

Me, nonchalantly: childhood trauma

Them: …

Me: it’s cheaper than therapy

Them: …

Me: tough crowd *shrugs and sips tea*

Want may share a thin line with need

but there is one difference.

Want doesn’t compromise;

it’s either there

or it isn’t.

I always thought I saw clear.

It’s like the first strong breeze

breaking through

summer’s reign.

Autumn always was my season,

I knew I’d pick someone

who brewed through it.

He’s cold like February

but warm like laughter

bouncing off the vegetables

at the grocery store.

How tender time is now

that I’m not rushing to close