Too Many Cracks in my Love.
By Tafline Laylin.
Not the kind that let in light, like a door at the end of a dark tunnel.
No, these were like fissures in a sidewalk,
where roots barge through until the concrete crumbles.
And you knew it, which is why you held on so tight,
why you couldn’t bear to let me out of your sight.
Until eventually the cracks erupted like high rises in an earthquake
leaving our inner debris strewn among the wreckage.
There was love, to be sure, but it was young and precarious
like overloaded mules on a cliff’s edge,
or cheap dental floss that frays at the slightest hint of pressure.
A more solid love might have withstood the strain.
Two loners pressed together in a floating box that always seemed to find
such angry sunsets,
bringing with them a jumbled sack of unfinished hurts.
Alas, our passion did an about face, from adoration to a seething hatred.
Kissing cousins. It didn’t take long.
In time we will forget the words, the ghoulish words pitched at theatrical volumes,
the spiraling conversations, the tears — they will simmer to a flat calm.
And one day, when our amnesia is complete, we will both try to love again.
*****
Tafline has been a wannabe Rebelle for a while, fidgeting around in the bushes of a busy life waiting for just the right moment to crack some words. She has lived many a where and loved so much along the way. It was bound to come out eventually.
{Lo-ve.}
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