In the rearview I see fragments
Blurry fragments
Of wind and gusts and gray
Of sunshine, and sand and the slow heavy air of summer
I see passion and fire,
And iciness blowing through life like warm breath on a January morning
I see doors upon doors closing. Slamming.
In sequence down a long, endless hallway
And I just let it happen
I watched each door close, I heard the sequential slam
And I felt the house shake each and every time
Jolting me awake for a fleeting second that I could never catch
In the rearview I see questions
They wait, just swaying in the breeze
I relive petty arguments and give them different endings
Writing furiously, pencil to paper, as if there is a clock to beat
Things to be undone
I relive thoughts and feelings I had
Combing through them with white gloves and a magnifying glass
Leaving them untouched but painstakingly examined
Was I wrong? Was he right?
I remember things he said
Words that cut me so quickly
I didn’t even know I was bleeding
In the rearview I see reasons
On tiny pieces of paper, overflowing a mason jar
Reasons I loved, reasons I stayed
I pull them out one by one
Smoothing the creases and bent corners
And I read them, I feel them
Slip through my soul
I know them. They feel like home
I deliver them casually back into the jar
Hoping they look untouched, like I hadn’t just been there
Hadn’t felt the weight of their burden on my weakened soul, my broken heart