Knowing doesn't make the hurt go away.
It just gives a face to the hurt as the wound still bleeds.
Logic's cold ice, the evening is filled with,
less misery.
The pain is there.
To be embraced.
So that the healing can happen.
And life turns to the next page.
Confused no longer.
Clarity is all there.
She found a new lover.
I wonder if I'll ever get there.
The writing makes it.
The writing makes it-
The writing...
- In response to reading Oates' "The Lady with the Pet Dog "& Chekov's "The Lady with the Dog."
And to some of life's odd mysteries...
Read the middle at the top.
