Wounded, each in turn surrendered
to the palpable
deprivation of his company, her company
although the past held only losses and capitulation
and his belt or her tongue, it hurt.
It burned. We bled.
A hard cheek against a child’s kiss
They drove away and took with them our emotions
Kismet and karma - left on the side of the road.
Fallen into the tree lined, leaf covered wood
Of wary self-confidence and tentative steps
We froze and paused in development
Separate in two piles of coin
Three for her
Seven for him
Conservation of numbers
preserving something in the face of change
We led lives vying for approval
scorned for individuality and then…
crawling back for breadcrumbs
to wait and cleave and hope
The severing of soul and heart
The slap and sting of divorce and time.
An always open wound.
Wanderings and Reflections