Metamorphosis, Evolution, Deconstruction –
Call it Whatever the Fuck You Want
You leave again
and I watch as the pattern
that forms around our union
becomes prettier and softer
like the hem of an old flannel shirt.
It’s been years
since we raised our voices in anger—
when the color red
seemed to paint the iron walls
of our tiny bedroom.
You used to leave indignantly
and furiously with both sets of keys
while I worried that the children
were still awake in the sanctuary
of their beds.
You always came home
with a bouquet of apologies,
and I would pretend
we were both to blame—
which was only sometimes true.
Eventually, I learned that turning
from red to blue – from hot to cold
was a more tolerable way to live
with the unwelcome
accoutrements of marriage.
Today, there was no rage.
There was no yellow serenity or calm—
Just a quiet blue indifference
when you made your exit
into the pink horizon.
I imagine one day I will watch you leave
and hope you never come back.
But today is not that day.