Jul 2022
I think of you less now, if you could believe that.
I still see you in poetry and in music and in art and the little habits I learned from you, and in food and in snails,
The list goes on but it really does happen less often now, and when it does im much less confused. Much more capable.
When this was all very fresh a friend of mine told me a day would come where, there wouldn't be the same pain anymore. Like an old bruise fading from a deep purple to a sickly yellow. Still tender and ugly, but dull and familiar.
And that the dulling of that pain, the yellowing of that bruise as it heals comes with its own painful realization. The realization that we've grown so far apart from each other I don't even hurt for you anymore. At least not the same.
I still see you in poetry and in music and in art and the little habits I learned from you, and in food and in snails,
The list goes on but it really does happen less often now, and when it does im much less confused. Much more capable.
When this was all very fresh a friend of mine told me a day would come where, there wouldn't be the same pain anymore. Like an old bruise fading from a deep purple to a sickly yellow. Still tender and ugly, but dull and familiar.
And that the dulling of that pain, the yellowing of that bruise as it heals comes with its own painful realization. The realization that we've grown so far apart from each other I don't even hurt for you anymore. At least not the same.
