I got caught caring again.
I got caught believing the little lies were light and that they marked the end of the tunnel.
I got caught letting my mind slip to the hairs on my pillowcase turning gray but always smelling like her.
I got caught believing that beautiful things last and promises are things we intend to keep.
I got caught hoping.
Hoping that my forever wasn't the losing half of a wishbone.
Hoping that storms passed and the sails, though tattered, would be true.
Hoping that my brand of love was not a fools errand. Not folly.
I got caught up.
Caught up in all the things we said we'd do.
Caught up in plans and promises and kisses and contracts.
Caught up in a ball of yarn so dense that it felt like a forest in my heart and I with no way to see the path for the trees. Until I saw the trees for the path.
Caught up in every should have. Every would have. Every childish want for a do-over.
I got caught waiting. Biding time. Angry. Jealous. Hopeful. Discontent. Capitol. And sipping wine with Etheridge Knight when I knew the Knight was darkest before the dawn.
I got caught in the middle. The rope in a tug of war between my head and my heart.
I got caught gnashing my teeth in futility. Clawing the roots, begging the tree to move.
I got caught wandering a path around the outskirts of the hole in my chest like a crater.
I got caught lying. Trying to convince myself that I was better off and better for it and better when the soles of my feet touch open road.
But the wine is sour. And the trees are burnt. and the dawn has come.
And I will not be caught again.