Darling, I Wish You Were Here

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It was like the cheery announcer in my head went, "Let's have a look, shall we? Ah, yes, very nice. Much to learn from here." And then I was looking at Schroedinger's Matrimonial Bliss, which promises to be the pinnacle of wonderfulness for as long as the Instagram filter lasts. 

Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash


Darling, you left behind so many truths for me to sort through. As I leaf through them, I'm reminded of a story from a long time ago - about an orphan who found her mother, only to immediately lose her. Who killed the men that killed her mother, married the man she loved on her way to jail, and was then left on her prison cell floor, sorting through the garlands that remained.

A disturbing image to my black and white brain that left me screaming at the unfairness and unchangeability of it all. Darling, you never would have let me call you that, would you?

Darling, darling, it wasn't you, so was it really me? Darling, I know it's all a lie, and yet is it not a truer lie than any you ever told me?

Darling, should I have you know? How some winter nights, drunk on joy and validation, and the silence left behind by the arguments that never happen again, I still remember the taste of ashes in my mouth?

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