The woman who lived

another of my attempts at poetry, we’ll see

The woman who lived was a singular soul

neither young or old, eternal and ephemeral at the same time

She walks in shadows I can no longer reach

She languishes in lonely and desolate places

Yet they leave no mark on her

She lives, but for how long?

The woman who lived, many roles has played, many ways I’ve seen.

She is not ordinary.

I loved her once, and then I learned to appreciate her another way, a familial love.

We only have the people that will show up. Not the people we want to show up, the people who actually do.

The woman who lived stands in contrast to me

More alive than I’ve ever been, she says her end draws near

Suddenly, she wants more time for the first time in her life. Death is funny like that.

I may lose her, I’ve lost track of her many times. Now, we may be in the final chapter.

Loyal friend, a rare diamond. She comes to me when I’m sad, really really really sad.

Meanwhile here I am.

We discussed the unfairness;

her curse of short living, and mine of long.

Sixty years I probably still have in front of me.

While with her every hour may be her last.

Do I envy her?

Does she envy me?

No, we both are in misery in different ways, and both equally stuck in the flypaper that is this city.

Most people get out, it’s rare to find someone as trapped.  Of course the woman who lived could be trapped because I’m trapped.

I long suspected she cares about me, wants to or needs to keep me around in some capacity. Which is a delicate thing to do for a married man.

This is also my curse, to attract a dark twin and orbit them.  I only want a cohort to support my goals……

said the would be cult leader, who wouldn’t be.

The woman who lived is fresh air after long stagnation

Rain after two dusty months of drought.

Horrible and wonderful, in equal measure.

We’d all do better to stay away,

but she’s singular I tell you, she draws us back.

We let her. I’m always the last port of call.

When the wind is really bad, and the cruelty of the world reaches fever pitch

I’m refuge in a storm to her.  That bit of kindness at the end of the road…..

that’s all I’ve ever been good at.

She shows me myself, and it makes my self loathing go down.

Why can’t all the clients go this way?

Oh right, can’t develop personal relationships with most of them.

I don’t know if I’ll ever know someone like her.

So if this is our last meeting it was a good one.

She’s come into her own, earned her exit if it claims her.

Still I ask for her to stick around, as long as I must, as long as any of us must.

That’s what is so singular, I think it’s just force of will.

I’m surrounded by strong women.

What life choices have I been making?

There’s this whole thing about how masculinity isn’t doing well

I think it’s junk, It’s all changing and redefining which it has for centuries.

However I look for people to learn from, that is my goal.

She is such a person.