"I go to seek a Great Perhaps"

I broke a heart once. Twice. A few times. It is not what one might expect. Because I assure you every promise I have broken hurt me as much as it did you. Every night you cried yourself to sleep I was granted no such relief. I laid awake in bed, tossing and turning. Feeling the fragments of your heart sprinkled and caught in the bedsheets. They cut me every time I moved, breathed, blinked. Raging a million paper cut wound revenges. And I, bled out into the blankets without resistance. Thinking maybe you could use this blood sacrifice like glue. But you have never been the blood thirsty type.

“Tell them I was the warmest place you knew and that you turned me cold.”

“But have we not had our fill of parting?”

“She had that rare quality: the courage to show love;”

“Thinking about how the demand for closure in writing often just means the death of insight. In life, though, closure means more insight, right? At least this is what it feels like when I imagine it.”

“But the mind always wants more than it has– one more bright day of sun, one more clear night in bed with the moon; one more hour to get the words right; one more chance for the heart in hiding to emerge from its thicket in dried grasses–as if this quiet day with its tentative light weren’t enough, as if joy weren’t strewn all around.”