I Came To Believe That My True

I Marvel At How Good I Was Before I Met Him, How I Lived Molded To The Smallest Space Possible, My Days The Size Of Little Beads That Passed Without Passion Through My Fingers. So Few People Know What They're Capable Of. At Forty-two I'd Never Done Anything That Took My Own Breath Away, And I Suppose Now That Was Part Of The Problem - My Chronic Inability To Astonish Myself.

I Wondered What It Was Like To Be Inside Her, Just A Curl Of Flesh Swimming In The Darkness, The Quiet Things That Had Passed Between Us.

Yes, Here I Am Returning, The Woman Who Bore Herself To The Bottom And Back. Who Wanted To Swim Like Dolphins, Leaping Waves And Diving. Who Wanted Only To Belong To Herself.

I Wished She'd Been Smart Enough, Or Loving Enough, To Realize Everybody Has Burdens That Crush Them, Only They Don't Give Up Their Children.

In A Weird Way I Must Have Loved My Little Collection Of Hurts And Wounds. They Provided Me With Some Real Nice Sympathy, With The Feeling I Was Exceptional... What A Special Case I Was.