And thus begins the cataloging of faults, and reasons, and the reversing of what was seen through the prism of brighter feelings. Justification for both the building of affection and the destruction of tenderness.
Broken hearted self-indulgence in its most violent and indifferent form.
The necessary building up, tearing down, and smoothing over of moment-by-moment memories that relentlessly bear witness to foolishness, abandon, loyalty, pettiness, false hope, and frightful vulnerability.
Like a renovated old house, I’ll eventually walk those same places within, delighted and surprised at how much better those refreshed paths in my heart are with a little landscaping and new paving stones.
And I’ll invite someone new in, who’ll not see how hard won the wider view and shiny fittings were. They’ll nod approval and exclaim how lovely and just right it is, and be welcomed and at home. Maybe even inspired to poetic outburst.
But for now, I’ll remember with some remorse that you made me smile often, calmed my anxious mind, made my heart flutter, were occasionally exasperating and generally lovely, but ultimately mere silk spun gold.