He says that to be born again,
you must die first.
How long until I am able to die,
or rather kill,
these feelings that still cling to me,
like hard, sharp barnacles?
I can not pry them from me
or torch them or freeze them.
they stay attached, simple and
eternal, shells that need not
a living being to stay on my rocks.
All the same, I forget they are there
or maybe they are not there,
and for a time, they can not cut my
feet or my hands.
It is so much easier for so many others.
They just find someone else,
and within months have moved on.
Easy swimmers who float with the tide,
from one wave to the next,
one beach to the next.
Today, the barnacles were back,
as I fantasized a scenario of ten years ahead
in which he returns, and I said,
I have two kids now. I am married.
But we had an affair anyway.