After the Storm

Being a little older,
fifteen years behind us
after our break-up,
we decided it would be fun
to talk over coffee.

We were different,
but we were the same.
In the way that
quiet children
grow up introverted,
and wild children
grow up frantic,
our basic cores
were intact,
just older and
(hopefully)
wiser.

We had questions,
answers,
memories…
it was like
resurrecting a part of yourself
that only one person
could understand.

I found out
that most of my insecurities
were the machinations
of a malignant mind,
and had to apologize
with explanations
that probably sounded like excuses,
but are just reasons.

Our break-up was something
that seemed so complex at the time,
and yet she found a way
to boil it down
to cold distillate:
“I left because I was afraid
I was going to come home
and find you dead.”

I’m still thinking about that,
days later.

For all the ruins
I’ve left in my wake,
I just don’t know
how I’m still here.
But I am.
Thank god
I lived
to see it
get better.

-GD Butler

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