Is it even an option to not visit? That's never seemed the case to me.
It's there, it's loud, it's screaming and demanding.
Whether love or pain. Joy or sorrow. Mania or depression.
It creeps up and grabs you like a catchy tune,
enthralling you to dance and sway and sob in dismay.
Coming to decisions I'm equally confident and displeased about,
things to enforce, boundaries to draw.
Seeing where each of us are,
both a universe and each
precious.
And perhaps where I am is not such a place of pain,
but a space of disappointment.
In a place of seeing through fantasies, admitting realities.
Uncomfortable or unfortunate as they may.
Something I learned long ago
and it returns and returns.
Love is not enough. Love is not the answer.
It cannot build bridges that weren't meant to stand.
No concept of time, you say.
Once starved on a diet of kisses and snuggles and affirmations.
How tender, how useless, how quaint.
But not to me. I find those components wholly necessary
though not a substitute for substance. Not anymore.
Perhaps it's wise and mature and adjusted and honest
to say so. To stand up and claim this and that.
Yet still I am saddened to acknowledge it,
shall host a viking funeral with coins and flame.
