Mr. And Mrs. Gray 

I am not as full of sadness as my pinterest pins would lead you to believe. Nor is my heart as broken. Still, though, there is truth that lies in the lyrics of songs buried between the words there in the pauses and sharp inhales. The remembrance of pain pushing through the breath and emanating off the tongue into beautiful audible tears streaming down a soft cheek. 

It will never make sense to me why it isn’t or wasn’t or couldn’t be. Why what was broken can’t be fixed but I only know that it can’t. I’ve learned that lesson over and over again. The loss of a soft smile. The loss of a heartbeat. The last of relief that follows an exhale, all unrecoverable. And this…it feels so close. I want to push it out into orbit and never hear from it again. 

Fear is a curious thing isn’t it? Sometimes it makes us impetuous and reckless and others stoic and paralyzed. I think about how I react to fear. But quickly push the idea out of my head. When was the last time I was afraid?  When was the last time I wasn’t? Maybe in ignorance there there is peace. Or perhaps it was a politeness than never need be addressed, whichever it was it gave me rest. 

Because of that I’ve wondered and was asked would it take another decade to allow someone so deep so close so In that they could quiet my storms. No, it wouldn’t take a decade. No, I never want anyone that close again. No, I don’t mean that…except a very large part of me does. 

Await and jumping at every sound, undermedicated for my circumstance yet overmedicated for my liking. Everything sits at opposite ends of the see-saw. Sick and well. Single or taken. Mr. And Mrs. Black and white. I’d give an awful whole lot to just wade in gray for a while and not be set on fire for doing so. 

Don’t you wish it was okay to just not know?


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