Too old to wait to begin

I forgot that you wouldn’t respect me. Or yourself for that matter. I choked on this reality for the longest time. I swore I would stay away and the very same day I said that, I let you back in.. we’ll actually you broke in. I drove up to my house as you were pulling out with various items stuffed in your car. I chased your car and you came back and we began again. I wanted to prove my worth so badly forgetting that the continuously burning gaslight that would be waiting after the sweet days of beginning. I’m writing this with hopes to not forget again. I want to say all this but what would it matter. Who would I be speaking to? Besides we don’t truly share love. It’s a good game of talking about it, until the work day is too long. It’s a great day of pretend as you pull the personality traits from them deciding which ones to adopt.

I don’t think I’m angry. I just have to remember the times I weighed my sanity against the emptiness of this life without you. The anxious occurrence of dealing with your sons. I feel like I failed. I feel like a worthless person. I couldn’t raise them into men. I can’t make them keep their word. My body is lighter as that stress leaves my belly.

It was better when I made it up. You were better in my mind. This is not art. You are always better when you’re away. This is your time. You will gain an inheritance. You will gain a new friend. You will raise your vibration. I must think good things for you. And then I must think of you no more.

Art credit: A Dear Visitor — One Last Visit (Ein lieber Besuch — Ein letzter Besuch), 1894 by Max Kurzweil (Austrian, 1867–1916)