I can’t write about you.
I only want to say good things –
But what comes to mind is a myriad
Of reasons why you’re lacking;
Why I’m lacking with you;
Why we’re lacking together.
Being apart gives us time to grow,
To develop – to survive; and maybe – THRIVE.
But none of this leads to resolution…
Always a meandering path, away from an END;
Always seen as an end,
Instead of the beginning it COULD BE.
The avoidance of finality exhausts me.
And in my fatigue, I look for the good,
The positive – whatever could be a lift…
From the weights around my neck –
The heaviness that pulls me into the depth.
So, it’s best not to write.
Not to think.
Not to talk.
Avoid – and sleep.
Safer. No end.