an ounce of peace is all I want for you; will you never call again?

Here again. Every time. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, but after this many burning wrecks ablaze? It feels too consistent to be casual, too fateful to be fancy, and...at some point, one must sit at the mirror and recognize the source of the problem.

And...I wish there was a simple explanation, I wish I had a facile description, neatly boxed and bowed. I wish I had an etched map to show you the constellations that led to this, the shoals that drew us in to crash at the shore. I wish for so many things.



But mostly, mostly, I wish I had that time I was told I had. The promised two weeks turned to two days and I was not prepared, I was not prepared for what was to come.

And I wish, I wish more than anything, I could explain what we both got wrong. Because it took both of our hands on the rudder to steer us here. This rocky landing was not accidental.

And we both forgot the rules, and lest that sound innocuous, they were rules clearly explained to both of us, to which we both agreed. We are both in the wrong. It is not just you, it is not just me, it is both of us leaving the path for the wild woods.

Never leave the path.



But the most frustrating thing, the thing that claws at my soul and pries open my eyes in hours indigo is--I am fighting, so hard, so very hard, not to fall back on old patterns. So hard to maintain necessary distance, and give us both time to recover. It is past pattern and it is born talent to make any situation worse. Because I am so, so very good at being kerosene for any fire. It is a gift.

I never wanted this, but it doesn't matter. I never wanted you hurt, but here we are. I want to rail at you for not thinking, for being laissez-faire with both our hearts and minds, but...I'd be screaming at myself, as well. Because I knew, even if I decided to ignore it. I knew and did it anyway. I knew, and justified bending the rules, then breaking them, because of the injustice of circumstance.

And you knew too. And you encouraged me anyway, because it got you what you wanted. Because it was easier. Because you had no respect for the rest of my life. Because because because, and again--it no longer matters. We cannot go back, we don't know if we can go forward, so we are stuck here.



Frozen in place. Relearning how to breathe without being locked up tight. Trying to dissolve that core of tension, resinous and thick, poured down my throat, the gelled frustration that locks my words behind clenched teeth and makes my hands shake.

I still have no words but pallid reassurances that yes, at some point, I will be willing to talk. That yes, I would like to accept friendship if it's what can be offered. That yes, I do want to see you again...at some point. Some point not now, when I can see you and not want...everything we had.

And yes, of course I miss you. I miss the conversations, I miss the heady discoveries day by day. I miss the sensations you were so very good at bringing me, of course I miss that. Gods, I miss that.



But no, that will never happen again. And if that means I cannot see you, cannot stand in your presence, even holding you at arms' length...then that is what it will take. I am untrustworthy around you. That is the galling, inescapable truth, painted across my consciousness. I cannot escape this truth. I cannot, will not, deny that I have failed to this extent, that I am this unwilling to control myself, that I would rather not think and just feel and vaguely hope there will be no consequences.

The consequences are here. They are dire, and they hurt, and I will be changed by both the knowledge and the pain of separation, but...that is what we are left with. This is where we are. The rocky shore, the splintered shale rocks to cut our feet, the stairs up the cliff that break and send us tumbling back down to the broken spaces, again and again. This...is all...we have left.

And it will hurt us, either way--traveling alone, finding the far distance, or trying to determine what path is safe together. When all I want to do is collapse on the shore, and weep until I have no breath left. That is mindless self-indulgence I can't afford.

And oh, I wish. And oh, I want. And oh, I hoped. And none of it mattered. None of it does matter, and I will not gainsay the one who brought us here. who forced the separation, because that way lies doubt I do not possess and mistrust I do not feel. But the almosts...the nearly-weres...those are haunting me.

Last night I dreamed I was in a large, dark house. Murmurings from voices, words I could not make out, drifted to my ears from distant rooms, but I wasn't looking for company. I was searching, room by room, drawer by drawer, cabinet to closet to cupboard, over and over. Searching for something I never found.

It doesn't take a genius to translate the meaning. There's no subtext. I suppose I should be grateful that it was frustrated searching over the feeling of your fingers on my skin, but I would have felt distress for either. And I know with great surety those dreams are coming, because my brain is a rebel, and those will bring me to very melancholy dawns.



And none of it matters. The decisions are made, the statues are toppled, the glass is shattered. We are now in the ebb of destruction, and all that remains are deciding which pieces to pick up, and which ones to leave behind.

And I wish. I wish. One more day, one more hour, one more minute, one more kiss...but wishes gain me nothing. I cannot live in should anymore, I cannot survive on unfair and not right. I cannot live...wanting what we had back again.

But I can live without you. Because I must. Because I have to. Because there is no other choice. Because my choices were made for me, but I was the one who made it clear those choices had to be made.



And I will learn to breathe again. And I will find the path again. And I will make my peace with things, because I have no other choice. And I will hope you don't hate me, in time, but if that's all you have to give, it's no more than I deserve. And I'm sorry.

I am so...sorry. But sorrier still that it's not just my ignorance. More sorry than I can express that you failed when you were given every opportunity to succeed. I will be sorry for that for a very, very long time.

And the train's on fire again. Maybe it never stopped. Maybe there were always embers burning, always seeds of destruction, in everything I've done. Maybe there was never hope in the first place. Maybe it was destined to go wrong from the beginning. And maybe, just maybe, you never understood the last time we argued, what we were even arguing about. Maybe for you it's always been about the push, the press, the rules that apply to everyone else but you. Maybe there was only ever lip service paid to respect, and understanding, and desire for more closeness.

Maybe he was wrong to allow you back. Maybe I was wrong to reach for more. Maybe you were wrong for seeing the opportunity to exploit, and never considering what it would mean down the road. So many maybes circling offshore, preventing departure.



Well, I'm not leaving. If this shocking turn of events is to teach me anything, it's that I know who supports me. I know where my compass points. I know how to get home, and I know who is waiting there when I go. Without judgment, without fear, with embracing understanding, and...yes, I would crawl through broken glass for that, I would walk through fire for that, I would give you up for that. At the end of all the days, that is my truth, and I will not walk away.

So, you're welcome to talk to me. You're welcome to ask me to explain, and I will do what I can. You're welcome to be a part of my life, in whatever limited fashion remains, as long as you understand I will not violate the bans. You're even welcome to be angry at me, to be hurt, to not understand, to rage. Those are all understandable.



But don't expect me to change the decision. Don't expect me to argue against it. Don't expect anything but acceptance that it has to be. Because I will not live in what if or if only. I will not second-guess what protects me, or who.

It will not happen.

And now, I can try to leave the shore.

(Pictures taken on the Sea of Greenhaven,the Vernian Lighthouse on the Blake Sea, Sea Breeze, the Chapel by the Sea, Las Islas and the Valium Sea.)