I receive the message in what I do not hear as part of the fluid truth of our relationship. We have our injuries, both. We continue, limping down solitary paths now.
You're ambivalent in your attachments - thinking yourself, willing yourself, out of this moment through to an idea of something better or higher. Mine are insecure, and I am left to wonder what is wrong with me that you didn't stay, tripping over roots and rocks.
I read today that, for some of us, loneliness may be programmed in our DNA. For those people, solitude feels like a wound. I say those people because I don't know if it's my DNA that makes me perceive this deep bruise, or if the bruisings have modified my DNA.
The two paths will intersect at a common terminus. When I reach that place, I will think it is a shame we couldn't have traveled here together in warmth, light, tenderness and laughter, our hands held securely in each other's.
You're ambivalent in your attachments - thinking yourself, willing yourself, out of this moment through to an idea of something better or higher. Mine are insecure, and I am left to wonder what is wrong with me that you didn't stay, tripping over roots and rocks.
I read today that, for some of us, loneliness may be programmed in our DNA. For those people, solitude feels like a wound. I say those people because I don't know if it's my DNA that makes me perceive this deep bruise, or if the bruisings have modified my DNA.
The two paths will intersect at a common terminus. When I reach that place, I will think it is a shame we couldn't have traveled here together in warmth, light, tenderness and laughter, our hands held securely in each other's.
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