On my way from you,
taking the last trip down your steps,
I slipped on ice we'd watched freeze from sheets of sleet,
from sheets of jersey cotton.
I caught myself,
but not before thinking back to that fall evening,
to the warm rain that oiled the top of the stairs across town;
back to when, on my way to you,
I left him
and lost my footing.
Grace aside, these moments
parallel in a way that fissured not bone,
but my psyche--
defining at once
this new she who sought one,
despite she who belonged to another.
Oh, the things she did say,
this foreign half of me,
as, descending your crystal-coated staircase,
she heard herself, for the last time, speak.
We had both fallen so in love with the sound of her voice.
On my way from you,
I caught myself,
and let her, broken, fall.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
On my way from you,
taking the last trip down your steps,
I slipped on ice we'd watched freeze from sheets of sleet,
from sheets of jersey cotton.
I caught myself,
but not before thinking back to that fall evening,
to the warm rain that oiled the top of the stairs across town;
back to when, on my way to you,
I left him
and lost my footing.
Grace aside, these moments
parallel in a way that fissured not bone,
but my psyche--
defining at once
this new she who sought one,
despite she who belonged to another.
Oh, the things she did say,
this foreign half of me,
as, descending your crystal-coated staircase,
she heard herself, for the last time, speak.
We had both fallen so in love with the sound of her voice.
On my way from you,
I caught myself,
and let her, broken, fall.
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