We have both managed to
grow a hide around
our inner selves, to lock the other out. Living
side by side, stepping around each other in
an elaborate dance. We carry our
spheres
of existence with us, moving in the spaces
between.
We need garbage bags, next time
you go shopping.
Okay, and the car needs
to have the oil changed.
Fine.
How
did we come to this? We used to share
everything. Somewhere along the line, one of
us withdrew, however subtly, and now
there are two entities sharing a bed.
There's
me and you.
I miss telling you about my
day, I need your advice. You look troubled,
but you refuse to break down and talk to me.
In a show of stupid defiance, I am just as
tough as you. I can deal with this on my
own.
I'm going to take a shower now, is
that ok?
Sure, go ahead. I'll just wait
until you're done.
Oh, no, sorry, I didn't
realized you wanted one now. Go ahead, I'll
wait.
This stilted politeness drives me
crazy. The two of us, locked inside our stubborn
fortresses, move silently through the spaces
between.