untogether

No. We are not together. We are not together seperately let alone when we’re occupying each other’s spaces. We say one thing and mean another. We reject each other, but each touch lingers just long enough to know that we are not yet apart. Emotions are like rifling through grandma’s jewellery box; everything’s a tangled mess of delicate, shiny bits of necklace and odd earrings that have lost their matches and broken brooches with rhinestones and clasps missing. Each emotion is not fully whole, but part of the great big mess. We’re messy you and I. We’re messes on our own and messes when we’re together. I don’t even know if we’re trying to sort through it anymore. I look at the mess and am broken. All I see are a million tiny knots of chains that bind us and I’m scared. Scared to put what it takes into untangling it all and scared of all that entails. We are just untogether. Our untogetherness is our gravity, bearing down with the weight of history and secrets and bad things and good things that happened behind closed doors and on kitchen tables and in all of the vulnerability that we gave to each other when our banks were full and we could laugh it all away. Heartstrings so tangibly connected we could chew through them from a million miles away.

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2 Comments on “untogether”

  1. this is so beautiful.


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