It comes unbidden from watching something smaltzy from a box set. A nothingness kind of trigger that brings it all flooding out. I think the worst of it is I cannot find a space in me which likes her. There is love but it is the deep primal sort that is beyond thought, that remembers the smell of her being the same as mine. I cannot tell when it was that I first lost her. Did I ever have her? She has never asked me what happens. Perhaps that things people have told her, things that their silences have intimated, have been sufficient. Will we heal this? Do I want to return that carelessness of hers? I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t know anything at all.
