My Marriage Ended Today: Papers soaked in ink.
My marriage ended today.
The papers, soaked in ink.
The dissolution; tangibly official.
Due to a previously missed notation,
we both found ourselves sitting side by side…
in a bank…
with a pale-faced woman
awkwardly holding a pen and a stamp.
Each page, we initialed together,
and I found the process so cold and tenuous.
Every stroke evoking an array of highs and lows
that ricocheted through me–
scorching my insides with barricades of opposites
like loss and redemption, future and memories…
At one point, it almost felt like I was living a dream,
or an outside observer peering from above,
floating like a broken cloud,
delicately removed from the permanence of it all.
On the ride home,
I found myself looking up to the sky
like I always do when feeling down or lost,
repeating once again to myself,
“We are going to be okay.
We are going to be okay.
We ARE okay."
But this time, although weak from fight,
I truly believed it.
