You Weren’t On My Schedule Today

I came to the library looking for a quiet place to balance my accounts.

I didn’t invite you.

Yet here you are.  Again.

You said I didn’t give you enough space, now you won’t leave me alone.

You occupy my thoughts, showing up unexpectedly when I’m  running errands, at home trying to get work done, even at night, when I’m skating with my son.

I don’t know how to keep you away.

I don’t know that I really want to.

In my car.  On my bed.  On my bike. In my head.  There you are.

Before I left my apartment, you showed up again.  I cried. Worrying that I may forget those sweet lips, if you do stop coming around one day.

Touching my shoulder, hands through my hair.  There you are.

I can’t seem to let go of the wanting.  Wanting more of what we had.  Even though our time span together was short, the connection was special.  Unique.  Natural, yet Powerful.

I wasn’t ready for it to end.

What about hiking, camping, the ballet?  All things we were going to do one day.

I am still confused as to why you closed that door.  I have to believe that you were also left wanting more.

What we shared felt so right.  Our bodies, words, and laughter, late into the night.

Your interest and attraction fed  a part of me.   A part in need of that special attention.  Something that had been missing for far too long.

It seemed like things were just getting started, only to come to a screeching halt.  The impact palpable.  Victims left to sort through the wreckage.

A friend told me that there is no timeline on grief.  The online advice says, Let go and move on.  I say, I’m not ready.  I don’t want to move on.  I’m not looking for someone to take your place, for another partner on the dance floor.  I want to be close to you once more, out on that floor.  Another night.  Then another like the one before.

This prolonged sadness is exhausting.   Three losses in the past two weeks have left me with a lingering sense of fatigue.  Seems I’m feeling your loss the strongest.

I guess I just need to keep on writing.  To let all the feelings flow out. To let all of the thoughts about us flesh out.

Although I am wondering …. when does it cross the line from normal grieving, into the realm of unhealthy obsession?  Is it while I sit here in the library, writing about you, about us, instead of balancing my accounts?

Copyright Suzanne Norton 2015

About Suzanne

I write poetry, flash fiction, quotes and personal essays. Words flow forth like a river that cannot be dammed. Writing is my soul.
This entry was posted in Essay, Feelings, Grief, Heartache, Love, Poetry, Relatioships and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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