I keep waiting for someone to save me. I'm not sure what leaves me feeling so helpless or continues time and again to catch my breath. I don't know what will solve these feelings or who will come on that shining white horse. Looking over the horizon, no mane is flowing in a stream of sunlight and no hoof beats are riding in on a breeze. I am sitting in this clearing of my life and I am just sitting. I have no reason to be there nor do I have reason to leave. so I'm sitting. Waiting, breathing, living.
Living?
I guess---
In transit, en route, invalid...wordplay. Each night the sun will set upon my dreams and reality will tell me when to wake and how impossible those oranges, yellows, reds, and pinks are in face of the day. I've been opening my eyes to hard blue realities, where you don't talk to me and I've loss much of what I worked towards for so long.
I miss you. And I want you to know---it's a plural you. You are the one who crossed the creek with me, the one I would run through corn alongside, the one I think I fell in love with (you hurt me perhaps past repair, I'm still reeling and I shouldn't remember you), the one who held my hand so convincingly you told me it could be real...but when the sun rose once again the promises of the night, the oranges, yellows, and reds were muted in the colors of today. of the morning. of your actions. of your consequence. My reality.
I can't love you singularly. You would hurt me and that would be more than I can handle.
but what's this you've handed me?
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