Apocalyptic

Apocalyptic

Definition: a break in time and reality in which what was will never be again and what is has no connection to the past. Sometimes things change that can never look like it did before.

My gut churns as I am sad

that I am the catalyst for this great change

this shift that broke a chain of love

of faith, of trust

a trust that can not be regained

or rebuilt… something new

will have to take its place

“Because we tell each other the truth”

has been our mantra and now we know…

I did not tell you the truth

I withheld information about your life

about my life that affects you

us.. and now.. there will be no

Us, no US… no you and me, no we 

together on the couch, cuddled

up with chocolate smell on breaths

in the air, the scent of expectation

of want and there will be none of

that because I have no courage for this truth

no ability to speak it, no way to know

how to explain the selfish thoughtlessness

I had, how drunk on love

the intoxicant that inhabited me

until the day words slapped

me sober… from a stupor that had

me playing in the traffic, putting

everyone’s life at risk, 
drivers and fool

But drunks are reckless

never know just how much havoc

they wreak until the air fills

with the stench of betrayal

of secrets cracked  for open display

of the meat of walnut seeds

vulnerable without their shell

I am vulnerable, but I am the one who did it to myself

reckless with the most precious gift I’ve had in a long time—

self-destructing and taking the valuables with me

like many an addict, out-of-control snorting our gain away

In stolen chats and conversations, reveling in our love

like a tale told around coffee tables,

gibly speaking of something so precious

 it should be handled only with the gentlest of care

and with permission

which I did not have

I am silent in the face of truth, 

chastened by my own insensitivity

 to your survival, to your life

This question gut-quick, and I am windless

I am sorry, but sorry is not enough. 

Confession is not enough.

I must make amends. How?

And then… how will I be with you?

How will you ever trust me again? 

How will I trust myself?
And so I am silent. Brooding, even.

I am quiet in the face of “it,”

the shit I’ve caused internally 

even if there’s been 

no external

dust up.

I wanted,...

but these things are too much to want

and so I sabotaged possibilities

for us to be here, in this space,
each for a lifetime.

I’ve been drunk and reckless 
with the "want to" of it all.

And so I sit contemplating 

unfolding the ugly of my drunken binge; 

my gorging and purging on love

the gory and prurient details

I have awakened with this hangover,

trying to figure out what to do with my life

how to be in my skin

how to live among my own kin

I just figurred out

I don't want to be

the secret

anymore.

© Valerie Bridgeman

February 1, 2013