What’s the Difference?

I’m stranded.

Twice in as many days.

Flat tires,

Dirt roads,

A quiet so silent it hurts my ears,

A dark so dark I think I may have gone blind.

And I don’t miss you,

Or reach out my hand to call,

My instinct in crisis is never to seek out comfort in your skin,

I’ve tried enough times to know,

You wouldn’t have shown up for me anyway.

You loved to boast on behalf of my own independence,

Nearly claim it as your own.

As if I wasn’t trained in the survival skill of it all.

I stumbled across our shared grocery list,

While I was looking for a light,

It shouldn’t have surprised me,

That you never bought the items in my handwriting.

When you ripped open my drawers,

My journals,

My notes,

My heart,

Did you realize you were narrowing my world so small,

That it only became an exit?

Small enough only,

For one miss i-n-d-e-p-e-n-d-e-n-t,

Little old me,

To fit through.

I had to starve myself,

Slender enough to fit,

Maybe you should’ve bought the fucking kettle chips.

The dark of that tunnel was darker,

Silence louder,

Than being in the middle of nowhere,

A different kind of powerless now.

At least I know,

The sun will come up in 5 hours,

And the air will cool the coals of my skin.

I can hang on through this temporary terror,

For the pocket of peace I know I’m promised on the other side.

I’m built to survive alone,

On my own,

Navigating territory that ain’t mine.

How poetic,

These things you might call pathetic,

(as you contest every line).

You know,

Maybe that’s it.

Maybe that’s the difference between you and I.