I see through a lens that distorts my view;
everything feels magnified and overwhelming at once.
You came into my life relentlessly and hard,
fought for it tooth and nail,
and pushed me into letting you join me in my distorted perception of the world,
and insisted you saw the same things,
and I believed you.
And for a while my isolation was split in half,
and we were lugubrious together.
It made things easier.
Sharing my despair with someone who could tame lions,
who could un-clutch the owl’s talons piercing my heart,
whose voice split the clouds with the ferocity and fearfulness of thunder
against a clear, blue sky.
It’s back to the shadows without you,
kneeling over pieces of a broken floor you tried to repair one afternoon,
to prevent me from literally sinking to the ground —
prescription bottles and doctor’s appointments lined up in front of me in orderly fashion,
calendar days crossed off one by one, hour per hour,
a body of meaningless actions, no adjectives,
just going through the motions
blinded by the lens that had always owned me,
bound to a past I cannot destroy.