to try to see if i still can. i always wrote her rambling letters of poetics and nothing and she never read them. who knows if she'd have known? they were mine alone, they were sticks and stones. i dont worry anymore when no one answers. i don't worry anymore when i don't care. plastic isn't anymore my enemy, i hate it though when it makes men of them. i hate it though when sand is in my eyes. i hate it though when she blows it out. shouldn't i be able to do it alone? like the songs and the proud sun and the wind that feels no need to justify? i almost threw away the reminder, the green glass, the pictures, but i found they could still rend. i found i love her not, i love her still, i can leave, i can stay, i can still be all those things because the present is here, but i still hold the past. up close to my heart and real, it isn't useless just because it's past. it isn't dark just because the sun's gone. and it isn't dark because i am the light. the darkness is its own, s i am my own, and you are your own, and they are of each other. sometimes love is less fun for the compromise. sometimes righteousness is less fun for the cold.

olivia bitting 1998

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