You will never take time to tell the truth. You will always take time to tell a joke. As you run from your life I see the familiar vapor trails of an unlived life. When I flee my life through caretaking I leave the same mist of unfulfilled desire behind me. I look at your potential and the damage that you do by not being here. I turn the magnifying glass on me and search for the same trends. I feel abandoned by you, the you, you never were but always should have been. I pray for the key, which will get me on the other side of the door you never opened. I hope to live life as it is rather than the comedy it can never be.
Cross the rivers in your mind.
The randomness of love
is matched only by the randomness of loss.
What slips into view or out of grasp
whispers beyond my control.
Like cookies baking in a nearby oven
I long for the sweetness to be inside;
even if it is simply in an olfactory way.
The similarity of the pain of what I have
and the pain of what is no longer mine
haunts me; scares my security,
rattles my hope, affects my sleep.
For minutes make a life
and moments are all it takes to remove the very same.
In the end all that I know is that loss does not remove love
and love does not remove loss.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault