I will change the
lighting in my bedroom,
I will remove the bulbs and replace them with lower
wattage,
I will paint the walls
a dark dark color and I will remember to
wear only black.
This is not mourning because there is nothing to
mourn, this is not celebration because what is the
joy in lying to ourselves? This is self-preservation,
this is softening a glaring truth
and muting it with dark, sensible lies,
this is molding the story so I
can live with it.
I stepped out yesterday, smack dab into a
bright sun and white snow, dazzling in intensity.
That is when I got sharp pangs of misgiving and
regrets, that is when my carefully constructed wall
of logic crumbled like so many words, that is why
I am going to retreat and create us a darker
corner.
I will be able to lie to myself there,
I will say it is still night and it is still okay to be
here with you. I will say it is getting late and we must go to sleep, I will be able to pretend we
have lost nothing but time and we can make up for it with
words and drapes and darker walls.