My glasses are no more. The same nerdy frames I’ve worn almost seven years. And then, on a night just like any other, they lie on the area rug next to the couch, mere feet away from lying atop the coffee table, the safe space. How they arrived in their flung state on the carpet–or rather, the deed committed in exchange for the loss–remains only in language and vague images in my memory. And when, in my absent-mindedness, with the heaviness of my soul, I push myself up from the couch amid all the pillows and blankets, in that instant, they snap.
And yet, it’s not the first time I’ve stepped on these glasses. They’ve held up through many a crisis, enduring all sorts of ruthless punishments and carelessnesses. Last night, they simply couldn’t hold up any longer. They snap with a voice of exhaustion, pain, anger. And for now, I must walk in a blur, temporarily blinded.
One Response to “In Mourning”
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awww…beautiful lament for the glasses, darling.