Contributed by Karly O’Loughlin
You got all wrapped up and presented yourself to me with a ribbon all shiny and enticing, but don’t you see that I’m no longer a child; I don’t want to play with the box and ignore the content. I want the content.
And that ship sailed a long time ago, trapped in a glass bottle and thrown out to sea. All that’s left now are the hands that threw it and grew to regret it and what I hoped to start with was a little honesty but all you cared about was my view of your sobriety.
You missed me this whole time; how can you say you miss me now?
And I know, as you exit my body in waves, this art of detaching myself is like the slow pull of velcro; silent and unnecessary. Because you were never here, so I’m just pulling on air like a crazy person and turning my back on the waves at my feet.
I will continue to wave my arms about and curl my toes into the sand and walk with a sway in my step and smile with my eyes and twirl the curls around my face and be the woman I wish you had swallowed whole and relished and savored and I know I am sacred. Watch the arch of my back as I keep walking. Watch and learn.
Learn so that if someone else’s hands find you, they will be able to hold you without breaking.
Watch so that if you drift on forever, you will remember this love that can hold you and still let go. This love that can walk away and still be love. This love that did and will and is.