I am compelled to neatly tidy the untidiness in relationships. Like returning home to check a door I know is locked – I am drawn to do it. I run on a hamster wheel to the end that’s still the start, and I wonder why?
This mind racing tastes like a teen spirited away. I’m not ok.
I jump to a bar far too high. Sprouting wings I fly.
Souring soundly from above.
A dove winks, and I head for a cloud.
Proud.
Of myself for where I’ve been, of who I am. And where I’ve yet to go.
Never slow.
Steadily released to ease, hands to head, thoughts turning toward the sky.
Of the inexplicably despicable.
And the torrential inconsequential.
A water balloon fight and caramel apples.
You will fall.
With zipped lips and turned blind eyes. The disguise. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Farewell, not so old friend. I will grieve. But not for you.
J.L.
Going On 40 