On The Table

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I’ve got new horizons as of late and seen more sunrises and sunsets in the past week than in months combined. The world is stretched out before me all golden hills and open roads and plane flights to places I only dream of. It’s a hard lesson to learn: that to get what you want you have to give up what you want. You have to clear the table yourself and take out the trash.

It has only been a week since I left yet and I feel miles, and if there were oceans those too, between who I was on that living room floor that night and who I am this afternoon. She’s a paper doll cut out playing the last final act for me while I watch from the couch. But, I meant everything I said. Energy lines like red strings across the universe cut with my incisor teeth.

You told me to fill in the spaces with things that might be good for me and I feel like I am collecting rocks in my pockets. I have to tell myself every now and then, it’s not to show them to anyone, they’re just for the shelf. They’re just for me now.

I can feel more orbit become more singular, less tethered to things I once held so fast to. I get messages from others out at sea. I get messages from you, wherever you are reading this. And they tell me they get it. They tell me my words sit with them while they float and bob around in the dark places we all have. And that makes it worth it. It makes it better. It gives all of this more purpose. And I tell her, there is nothing quite like the furnace of a broken heart. It forms you into something so whole and new. And if you look closely, at sunrise, there are new pieces to be collected and put into your pockets.