T-to-the-A

And then… and then…

In The Daily Drool on November 9, 2009 at 11:29 pm

… it happens.

I wake to find the little pain in my chest has dissipated into something… manageable – resurfaceable if I let it go too long untended – but manageable nonetheless.

And I start to breath.

Because I’m not dead, this heart not done for… just bruised.  Bruised good.  But still beating.

And his name doesn’t sting, his voice is long gone, and his smell… nearly forgotten (I think.)

All of it carrying a sadness, a weight that bends… but doesn’t quite cut (anymore) and I think, maybe…. maybe I will be able to try again.

Maybe.

Then a shiver, a shiver of “Not Yet” creeps up, slow at first then rushing at lightening speed… up, up, up into my heart and mind, sent directly from my soul “NOT YET!”

(swallow)

An apology.

An apology for embracing the freedom that my almost-forgotten grief left in its place as it stepped out for a moment.

The sadness is still here… but in a thinner form.

And my trusting heart, a heart who threw itself open for this man, still beats, still breaths… but it does not trust.  It does not trust in its own ability to love– for it was so wrong, so wholly incorrect in its estimations, that it prefers to heal in solitude.  And to consider solitude.

To meditate on one-ness.

Even though it yearns to be two.

So I breath.

And I send my heart lullabies.

Because sooner or later someone else with loving eyes is going to deliver a host of butterflies to this body and I will undoubtedly begin to test the scar tissue once again…

… but no, my dear soul, not yet.

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