One day I repented my resentment because I realised I'd forgotten
to repeat it. For a while—no, for a long while—it was like a prayer,
rising to the skies, morning after morning, like a siren that wouldn't quiet.
And then I remembered other things: the way I walk lighter these days;
the way you never knew my story of divorce; the way I am tired of being
forced among the new; and the way I miss having someone to speak to about
things I don't need to explain; the way we shared a name.
So I decided.
I took a flight and hung around the areas where we used to meet.
I loitered with intent. I was hungry with hope but couldn't eat alone.
I missed the home your body was, even though we're grown now,
I missed your smell, your wrestle, your snoring breath.
And when I saw you, I saw you'd changed too.
So much behind us we didn't need to name.
...
Read full text
Well expressed thoughts and feelings. An insightful creation from the heart. Thanks for sharing, Padraig.