Clueless Ink

I shift between anger and empathy; sometimes all in one breath.

Sometimes, it feels like he’s the villain.

Other times, he’s just a boy in pain.

Sometimes, I can’t believe how easily he can alter the shape of us.

Other times, my man’s just acting in shame. 

It’s as if every possibility from every parallel universe crashes into my head.

All in one day, in this one reality.

Emotions swirl around that one fight,

Around out months of a beautiful love story,

Around his pain.

If he’s running from it, I get judgemental.

If he’s acting okay around it, I get jealous.

If he’s drowning in it, I sink too.

And still, there’s this stubborn thread of anger: Why did you do this?

But then, there’s love.

Which brings understanding.

Which invites the dissection,

Of him, of me, of who we were together.

It’s a roller coaster,

Sharp turns, sudden drops,

A few tears spilled along the way.

My feelings don’t even connect to each other. They spill without direction.

Some days, he’s to blame.

Some days, it’s me.

One night, he’s immature.

Another, I’m too self-involved.

Then he’s impossible.

Then I’m done.

And then…

There’s the final day.

Where I break, quietly, into tears.

And he’s there, still.

And in the next moment, I’m angry all over again.