When it feels like an ending.

Time twists around my fingers
Like her fingers in her hair
Blonde hair
She wraps it tight and pulls it
Some kind of disorder
Ripping your hair out
And I want to throw everything backward
I keep trying to put my finger on it
On the place where everything changed
Where I was suddenly discontent -
When you opened your coat for me and I refused to allow you to wrap me up in it?
When I invited you in and I should have kept you at arm's length?
When I allowed him to touch me even when I didn't want it?
When I sat outside listening when I really wanted to be inside singing?
When I told you it was okay if you fell in love with her?
When I let go of your hand during Red Rover?
When I told both of you I was your best friend because I didn't want to see either of your hurting?
-
And maybe,
I think,
That has been always
A crying baby discontent outside the womb
The fetus, discontent, inside the uterus - kicking and clawing
And I keep thinking I am just on the cusp of it
Of figuring something out
But I crawl through the opening
I've made
With only my nails as shovels
And inside I find another door
And another
And another
And those doors don't end
And there are days when
In between rooms
I don't want to dig anymore
I just want to sit
And have something be real for me.

And nothing is.