They Do Not Know

TheyDoNotKnow

They tell me to live in the present.  I tell them, don’t you see that I am.  

In the present is where I miss you insatiably– it’s where you’re supposed to be, yet where you’re ever missing from me.

Thankfully they do not know this kind of pain, this kind of life, the torture of straddling two worlds at once.

They do not know of the bitter-ist of bitters in the middle of every sweet.  They do not know of the sleepless nights, and the breathless days.  Of the ache of all aches in the heart of my heart.  They do not know, they do not know.  And when I tell them, they cannot hear me, because they do not want to know of this grief.

 Yet I am thankful, so very thankful that they cannot imagine such grief.

 

 

photo: Angela Miller




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