the fold


and when he returns to the fold, you have lost him
just when you are energized and ready to go again, you realise that none of this is on your terms
it’s on his
that any understanding that you may have shared, was fleeting
he was never yours to lose
and you wonder for the thousandth time that night, how you could have willingly devoted yourself to this neverending seesaw of ambiguity

he comes to you, broken
he comes to you with tears threatening to break through their stoic threshold
he looks at you, ashen-faced and defensive, wincing like a wounded animal that needs your love but is too afraid to do anything other than wrap its protective instincts around itself
you sigh, you begin the dance, and you extend – reaching higher and further than certainly you had ever intended to

gradually, he lets you in – knowing the end of his sabbatical is nigh
promising to let go faster next time
promising to let you in
promising that all he needs is right here in this space
renewed – you find reserves that you never knew you had

and then he is gone

it’s okay – you think
this time – there were victories
this time – he understood
until he returns to the fold
and you cannot shake your thoughts
and yet, you must

so you drink deeply
and begin again


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