I used to write about your resemblance to flowers.
Words like
blossoming,
beauty,
and growth
rolled so easily off my tongue.
My vantage point has changed,
and I now write of the ways you are much more like a ****.
Unpleasant,
incessant,
and maddening.

I won the breakup and never loved you;
And other words of falsity I've tried so hard to believe.
It is as simple as nothing
And we are fools to think otherwise.
There are no road maps for grief,
directions are useless and no compass can save us.
We are moving, in a million directions but forward.
Maybe forward.
It's too soon to know yet.
Onward

There is an elderly ladybug
that has taken up residence on my bathroom wall.
I don't know her well, but she appears wise.
Her coloring is dull,
likely weathered from her simple existence.
Aren't we all a bit dulled from living?
A bit more bland over time?
Her dense spots remind me that she is a veteran of this world.
She has seen the earth's soil in a way I will never have the good fortune of knowing.

I've found myself searching for her each morning,
wondering her whereabouts and what her evening has entailed.
Funny, how she is teaching me so much in so few words.

The rain came after you left,
slowly, but it did.
This time I allowed it to pour.
I did not buy umbrellas or stay inside,
or seek solace in the company of others;
which had always been my reflex.
I let loss shower over me.
I let your absence be present,
Despite its density.
It was heavy and hard.
Agonizing on even the easiest of days.
It was not simple being soaked in such sadness.

I don't believe this is a passing shower.
And yet I am learning to find light-heartedness and lessons in this climate change.

I never learned to sip slowly or dip my toe in.
I  have always been wholeheartedly devoted,
no matter the risk.
Always seeking potency over practicality.

Our love was no different.
But I think you already knew that.