My thoughts are vivid as I dream of her.
And I surprise myself on how well I’ve retained every single detail.
Fabrics of time, woven inside my mind.
I haven’t let go.
I miss the forest.
I miss her trees.
I miss the flowers.
I miss the seeds.
I draw pictures on the wall,
alone in this dark cave.
Alone in the shadows,
I become its slave.
I can’t see outside but I have this feeling the forest may be dark too.
A black cloud has rolled in, obstructing her view.
I keep my lantern and my flashlight right where I can find,
wondering if she’ll ever come again, to let me outside.
Wondering if she’s realized I’m not supposed to be in here.
And that the sadness and the pain she’s feeling in her veins, should make it so clear.
But the silence she’s kept me in tackles my hope at its knees and her fire can’t reach me, it feels like zero degrees.
I suppose I could find a way to break myself out.
Gather my things and set foot back into her forest.
But I can’t and I won’t because I will not trespass where I am no longer welcomed.
I’ve already bent so far.
I’ve learned new ways of my heart, specifically and purposely so we would never depart. I’m not a cave dweller.
I did not put myself here.
I can move mountains but first I need air.
She needs to come get me, to explain, how and why she left me days upon days in this cave, detained.
But I’m just not sure she will, so I get used to the cold, I get used to the chill.
Reckless Heart By Candace D. Brooks
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