as much absence as presence.

It was in an herb garden that I first begged for the truth to be a lie. Had perennial bruises for years. Soil was famished and  I promised to feed it well but still I forgot.
You kept saying, “oh god, you killed the basil!” Your concern was an attack.

so I dumped my wallet out as an apology

and now,

I am imagining watching you crumble like rubbed oregano between my hands. Nothing makes sense when I am disappointed.

Do I have to lose everything in order to feel complete?
The answer is always
a Yes.
The answer still shames me.

But guilt also means healing. Anonymous ten-fold fear. It’s a little more like being punched in the chest than anything. A little more like humiliation. Infection. Three stories tall.

Soil still
malnourished but now there’s some green. some hope.

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2 thoughts on “as much absence as presence.

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