Push and Pull

When they were together,

her mind had a pool to swim in—

to float

instead of spilling itself

all over her brain and heart.

When thoughts consumed her

like the constant ringing of a grandfather clock,

her hands sweaty and trembling,

when she didn’t have the strength to carry herself,

he made her feel whole.

Even in his absence,

she noticed him more than anyone—

from the smell of his fresh cologne

to the warmth of his hand in hers.

Her mind scrambled like an egg.

Yet, when storms brewed inside her,

he disappeared.

Off in the far distance,

grinning with her—

then he pulled back.

Pulled back to her.

It went on for what felt like forever—

push and pull.

As time flew,

things felt more chaotic.

He was with her.

He was with Her.

Like the tides,

going up and down.

One day, he didn’t come back.

He stayed,

bringing what felt like peace,

but it carried her storm.

She was Me, and she was hurt,

weeping for what she thought was her groveling suffering.

She wept wilting roses.

But she grew to learn there is peace

in losing what could’ve been great.

Quiet, with what was lost.

She felt peace—

not because he was there,

but because he no longer was.