// to the green lessons //
She hadn’t accused or rejected him of anything, yet there they were, trying to forge around this massive rift. Her eyes went downward again, like everything she said became construed into something it wasn’t; all the warmth and delight seeping out of her like a vice. She sat there momentarily like a stone, trying to piece and parse through the webs and heartbreak and devastation, out of her depths and elements. “I didn’t-,” she started, and then choked back on a sob, and she placed the mug somewhere behind her just so it didn’t break and shatter when she clutched it too hard.
And now she’d somehow made him feel like he had no support. Like she’d done nothing at all.
How many times had she cast aside everything she’d ever been for another? How many times had she forgiven, and simply loved? How many times had she walked on eggshells and remained the gentle figure, trying her best to calm and soothe the flames, rather than fan them? But here, in this situation where she’d had no opportunity to mourn or grieve him before he was back and changed, altered, before her eyes – she felt useless. A flag, a banner, tied uselessly in the wind. She could feel the panic rising in her throat once more, the shortening breaths, the induced trepidation miring its way through her ribs. She swallowed down several more buoying, lancing properties barbing their way down her throat, coming up empty. “I know, I understand that-,” or at least, the value and length of trauma. Not in this instance, but enough to comprehend the weight.
“I don’t know what to do for you,” she offered finally, turning towards him, instead of into herself. Her hands went of their own accord, to wrap somewhere around his neck in a long, sad embrace, hiding her tears in his shoulder. “But not once have I asked you to stay. Don’t ask for my thoughts, and then consider me heartless.” She was just adrift in a wide open sea like the rest of them; trying and striving to salvage anything from the wreckage. “I want you to do what’s best for you. I just think we’re all stronger together.” And maybe she was wrong. Maybe that’s what all this was. “I’m terrified, Zavien. Of losing you again. Of losing anyone. What if you’re out there and-,” she didn’t finish. She was certain his thoughts had done enough of that.
And now she’d somehow made him feel like he had no support. Like she’d done nothing at all.
How many times had she cast aside everything she’d ever been for another? How many times had she forgiven, and simply loved? How many times had she walked on eggshells and remained the gentle figure, trying her best to calm and soothe the flames, rather than fan them? But here, in this situation where she’d had no opportunity to mourn or grieve him before he was back and changed, altered, before her eyes – she felt useless. A flag, a banner, tied uselessly in the wind. She could feel the panic rising in her throat once more, the shortening breaths, the induced trepidation miring its way through her ribs. She swallowed down several more buoying, lancing properties barbing their way down her throat, coming up empty. “I know, I understand that-,” or at least, the value and length of trauma. Not in this instance, but enough to comprehend the weight.
“I don’t know what to do for you,” she offered finally, turning towards him, instead of into herself. Her hands went of their own accord, to wrap somewhere around his neck in a long, sad embrace, hiding her tears in his shoulder. “But not once have I asked you to stay. Don’t ask for my thoughts, and then consider me heartless.” She was just adrift in a wide open sea like the rest of them; trying and striving to salvage anything from the wreckage. “I want you to do what’s best for you. I just think we’re all stronger together.” And maybe she was wrong. Maybe that’s what all this was. “I’m terrified, Zavien. Of losing you again. Of losing anyone. What if you’re out there and-,” she didn’t finish. She was certain his thoughts had done enough of that.
Lena
// of soft, simple quiet beneath the sun //
