Earthquake Weather

It feels like the San Andreas fault. Like there is some secret timer counting down to Armageddon. There are supposed to be some tension releases over time. But we haven't had one in 8 years. Is the big one coming? Is this a slip fault? What will jut up between us?

I'm sitting in your living room and you're screaming. Your face is red. I'm obstinate. There is nothing left to say except everything we've never said to one another. You don't remember saying you wish you didn't have children. Maybe I misremember. I want to re-member everything that's broken. It's just not possible. There are too many missing pieces. Too many apologies that never found their way past our gritted teeth. We have to just move past the missed opportunity at the clinic, past the resentments, and past the lives we can't get back.

Because we wait so long everything smacks of 'this is how I really feel- everything else has meant nothing.' Our jaws unhinge so our fangs can fully extend and I can fit your whole corpse in my mouth. Our hips unhinge so we can give birth to the growing bitterness that has finally gestated.

I don't want to know what you can't say. I don't want to know what you fear will make me angry. Because everything made me angry. And now all I feel is sadness. Loss. The space I've held for something that was never there.

I used to be unable to cry because the bitter seed I'd planted sucked it from me. It grew and pushed against my throat when I would try to squeeze out a whimper. Maybe you think I sound different because I cry freely and often now. I removed my fist and tucked my heart back where it belongs. I'm working so hard to forgive myself and it will never matter if I forgive you. I'm the only one I've ever been disappointed with. You're the only one I've ever felt sorry for.