My foot has landed
on an unknown pebble
of information;
it rolls underfoot and
I tilt back with
a blinding blast
of panic.
Up is down
and down is
horizontal as I
tumble down the
s --
t --
a --
i --
r --
s --
I've been so
p a i n s t a k i n g l y
climbing.
I land in a
knot of shock and grief
a mere
couple of steps from
the very bottom,
the very beginning.
Familiar
hurt, confusion, and anger
twist and turn
around me in
a smothering weave
that settles over
my senses.
I wish I didn't know this unwelcome cloak.
I wish I didn't have to know how to remove it, inch by inch.
I wish I didn't have to move past
midnight talks
and
midday laughs
and
frequent promises
to be
"BFFs".
I wish I didn't have to let you go.
More on my lost best friend. Poetry has sort of become my coping mechanism/therapy for this. Hope y'all don't mind.