Remember the summer days and glasses of lemonade?
Remember what we had, until a spider
walked out on the web. It bent under the weight.
I still taste loss and failure in my throat.
Begin to un-seam my life, to break down body parts into elements.
Tease out the knots, until it was just us again. Not her.
After you lied, I started lying.
Attention shifts towards the temporary, and rings come off.
Your lies were a golden trauma, unexpected and vicious.
Like a spider-bite, they don’t heal untreated.
Remember being rudder-taught? We learned how to guide
the sailboat, trusting it to keep us from the waves.
I’m trusting my heart to airplanes now,
to find some peace in thinner air.