Over

 

blackandwhitebwroadwalkingwomanbare-8dda43f26cdb3bef5afbd9f29dd629f3_h

So this is what “over” feels like

Hollowed out, almost

Emptying.

Involuntary release of what was once satisfying fullness.

 

“Over” is sobering acceptance.

Feeble substitute for the high of a drunk “forever…”

Forever?

When has the promise of forever ever been anything other than a fool’s comfort?

 

“Over” feels cool, no real need for a blanket

but no need for a fan either.

It’s that in-between feel that holds comfortable within view but just out of grasp

Promising something better but dropping the ball on delivery.

 

“Over” feels familiar, even safe, yet repulsive

It hovers heavy like a cloud

Bursting with moistened pain

It seeps in where it wasn’t invited and blends with all that’s normal.

 

“Over” haunts the spirit

Taunts it

Dares it to rebel

Fight back

It whispers sweet somethings

Weakens knees and resolve and smiles satisfaction at complete domination.

 

“Over” oscillates between suffocating resentment and frozen numbness

Between total control and slobbering mess

It hates the you that one was and

Envies the evolving you.

 

“Over” holds a death grip that over-strokes honey coloured vibrance with grey glum

Recasts sunset hues and sea breeze images with midnight blackouts

 

“Over” presents a challenge

Begs for attention with a cold shoulder and silent back

Demands response while screaming deafening silence

 

“Over” is content and peaceful.

Graciously smiling at quiet acquiescence.

Happy and healthy African American woman relaxing with open arms outdoors

 

© 2013

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