A Good Dusting of Salt

 At a loss for words...

It periodically happens...

Too many or too few thoughts...

Like a kid

Poking roadkill 

With a stick...

I wonder about her life now...

Now that it's none of my business...

But I don't feel like asking...

I'm not ready for that level

Of reconciliation...

She still believes

False narratives

About me...

Scenarios that she created

In her mind...

She may be feeling pain,

But she has no idea

How hard this has been

For me...

No idea why

I can't see her face...

How hard it would be

To love someone so much,

And know that it's over,

And have to just

Stand there and suffer inside

Until the Final Decree...

It wouldn't change the outcome,

And would only inject

Fresh pain into the wound...

A good dusting of salt...

Nobody needs that...

Emotions can last for decades,

But I'm sure she's

Soothed her nerves,

Fulfilled some physical needs...

Head and heart and body

Can be compartmentalized

By the human mind...

It shouldn't be the goal,

But it's a survival mechanism...

And, just like the memes,

When her Facebook status

Went to "single,"

I'm sure her DMs filled up

With eager fuckboys...

(To be fair,

She was getting dick pics

When we were married...

She'd always inform me

Before telling me she blocked them...

Never mentioning names...

Feigning disgust...

But I always wondered

If she didn't actually

Love the extra attention...)

It's a lot different

For a 51 year old man...

I look good,

And  still get looks,

But Covid Nation

Keeps the distance...

Besides I'm so much more

Charming and seductive

In person,

All I can do online

Is awkwardly meme...

And I've got more important

Things to do...

(Especially when half the

Available dating population

Are hookers...

Sorry, I guess the word is

"Escorts"...)

Ain't nobody got dime for that...

So,

Yeah...

I have an internet connection

And plenty of lube,

So I'm cool...

Sorry,

I've always been 

The king of TMI,

Once you get me talking...

She, intentionally or unintentionally,

Tried to train that out of me...

The free flow of conversation

We originally enjoyed

Got slowly whittled away

By me recognizing triggers

And trying to avoid them...

Piece by piece

My ability to be

That open friend

She'd always known 

Went quiet...

I tried...

I tried to be what she wanted,

At least what she needed,

Short of that...

But the idea of

"Be Yourself"

That started the journey 

Turned into something else...

Neither of us

Felt like

We could be ourselves...

Both of us failed

To handle the other gently...

Everyone's been fucked over

At some point in their lives...

Just don't carry that damage

To the next person

You give your soul to...