Pride and remorse wrapped neatly in a bow.

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It seems so heavy but weightless, nuanced yet simple. Like life was complicated and someone also hit “crush” on the blender without a lid on.

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I strayed far from you mainly out of fear, only to realize that you are a part of me. It’s the art of integrating you while simultaneously being at war with an established combat soldier. You’re always ready to fire.

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On the opposite side of my shame, and the consistent reminder that I’m not enough, lies the mask that everyone else sees. The one I’ve been tired of wearing.

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My hope falls on the idea that one day we will be blended so perfectly into one. As if the routinely applied cover up spread haphazardly along my jaw no longer needs to exists. Alas, my skin will show.

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I know you’ve made poor choices, because you are me, and I am still you. But when you’re provoked it leads down the trail to little Al; alone in the stale air of Sunshine Corner. The canary yellow rocking chair lurching back and forth. Back and forth.

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But as I grow the path to solitude seems less and less clear. As if new directions are the most evident choice, wondering painfully slow towards a union with you.