The ugly chair now, that we don’t wish to sit in or admit brought comfort, respite
Nor will we throw it away
We mourn it in the kitchen like a death
Seemingly forever, while surrounded with casseroles of comfort food brought to us by well-meaning “friends”
We watch it as an epic film of someone else’s life
Sitting in the dark, screaming at the screen, warning of their err, fall from grace, then trauma
We escape it with our wanderlust-filled travels near and far
Photographing nature, plus wild wildlife who in-turn, chase us as we sleep, pseudo-nightmares that wake us at 3am
We do this
You, there, and me, here
Silk and brocade-covered hardwood frames we were and we are
Camaraderie and adventure that was to have brought us peace
Closure to the aching
What color was it initially, before the fade, we ask ourselves over and over
What we know for certain — it was an heirloom love
Before the spit up and sweaty workaday clothes soiled it
Before the pained animals in us tore it to shreds
Before our childhood loneliness, unresolved, relegated us to our corners in our fifties — upper lips bloodied, both of us
Walking attachment disorders, detached by default, from each other
All in one, single day
Eventually, we go to the curb with this shredded chartreuse thing
Pack up and move far away
Looking from the rear-view mirror at what was, we draw others’ ire as we drive too-slow down that road
It is always dusty Summer in our hearts’ mind’s eye
LisaRosier.com 