Head space findings
I recently found a notebook I carried with me in May and June, when I first moved to Edmonton. Most of this is long forgotten, the feelings I had to expresses are ancient history. But here they are.
It was here, within us, between us.
Under the sheets, speed dial 2, the wrong shoes,
the right hands to hold.
We lost it.
Perhaps in the park, or down the drain with the cold coffee we couldn't finish.
Recycled with yesterday's cross word.
Regardless of how it was found, or how it was lost,
it happened. There are debts to settle.
I couldn't fill enough note books to display how much I hate this.
I couldn't even fill one.
Paper never did anything to deserve such orchestrated,
I am so sorry.
Your direction of love changes faster than the seasons,
cycles of the moon,
songs on the radio.
You don't know what to do with me, so how should I?
You said, "Love and loss; it's a written rule." So tell me now, dear,
where are the instructions?