Glass Breaking

We’re all on friendly terms —
me and the rest of the women I’ve been.
In fact, I love them, faults and all.
I am the sum of their parts.
They are the source of so many things, including hope.
Hope, yes, but hope in all its forms.
Healthy hope. Happy hope. Loving hope.
False hope. Wishful-thinking hope. The hope of films and movie scripts.
The hope I had that one day, I’d run into you in a coffee shop
or at a gas station and I’d get to apologize
on behalf of the Woman I Used To Be.
I’d get to acknowledge that who I was is not who I am, and I could release
the lingering guilt that I frequently forget and hate to remember.
But now you have a piece of paper that says something like,
“I do not think of you.”
I did not think this would stir any feelings at all.
But it turns out that the Woman I Used To Be
is still holding the guilt and apology in her hands
like a carafe of coffee and a mug
that will never get poured and will never be filled and drunk,
and I can feel her trying not to throw them both on the ground
because destroying them would be better than feeling their weight.
And the Woman I Am is looking at the Woman I Used To Be
and thinking, “Don’t you make a mess —
I just cleaned up in here.”



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3 responses to “Glass Breaking

  1. I must have missed this one when you first posted it. I love it!

  2. Pingback: Awards! | Men$aBlondEsq

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