It’s the rejection of the idea in my head
The idea of what my life with you could or better should (hush)
look like,
That’s what hurts right now.
That’s the knot in my rib cage.
That’s what makes me want to puke.
Instead, what I received from you was acceptance of who I am,
acceptance of where I am,
a possibility to explore more,
of me,
who that is,
who you are.
Explore where
we,
this,
it,
can go,
where I,
could go.
Maybe, this is the grief of letting go of what I was led to believe was truth,
the commercialized,
caramelized,
made in china kind of empty,
hollow netflix love.
It always felt kind of fishy.
But it gives us hope.
It gives us traps.
Beautiful gold plated traps covered in Tiffany’s with a pink polka dotted bow often served with a side of divorce.
With a side of pain.
With a side of waking up to having lived a truth that is no longer there because it never was.
With a side of thinking that you said yes to love 20 years ago,
When what you said yes to was the veil held up before your eyes,
The happy-future scented veil,
The veil you held onto until the very last second just before you realized it,
in fact,
is not,
was never,
a safety net.
It,
in fact,
does not save you from free falling down a cliff and risking every fiber of your being,
every trace in your mind,
every glimmer of your soul
to be exposed and shattered on the cold winter ground.
The veil does not do that.
The thing is,
you,
naked,
shattered,
exposed,
vulnerable,
seemingly broken in your torn up veil
are still not
without love.
You are still love.
You are still love.
You are still love.
You always were.
So maybe, just maybe I am starting to see through the veil.
And maybe all this is,
is an invitation to come home.
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