What I represent to her now
is failed relationship,
ample weight for sinking, and
pacified potential, dragged down.
I have no resources from our past to draw from
I have to contribute some new understanding now
something we never talked about
something altogether different,
something dissociated from the pain I caused.
This moment is like starting over
with any potential lover,
any random soul I met at art crawl:
A new opportunity to give.
And yet I have to draw from my sensitivies
my knowledge of her skin
my understanding of her struggle.
my appreciation of her drive.
Cry anyway, into a glass bowl: then, watch as the complexity evaporates, leaving behind your essential crystalized fears, which (whether you drive them into a thousand pieces, or mould them into a more delicate dissonance) will no longer exist when you, in time, have circled up and over all the teaching and learning; stopping and going; falling and flying that this amazing opportunity affords.
In the contrast between me and you lives the potential that always is, but is not always realized. We discover the limits to our vision and find the faults in our identities. Breaking up is like dying because in breaking up we fail to fully live.