(F)unending

I threw my windows open wide trying to tempt in the flood that we both knew would never come. And with you digging your own grave but never enough of a stiff to just do the damn thing and bury yourself, I thought that maybe snow hadn’t been a good idea. Maybe heat rising from our skin and flurries sticking to our insides was too much of a storm. Maybe the car was too small. Maybe the night had been too long. Or maybe my raised skin wasn’t enough. Maybe sheer lace allowing everything to play hide n seek right in plain view wasn’t enough of a map. Or maybe you just never liked the destination. Not enough curves. But way too many speed traps. Red alerts and sudden stops. Maybe the shadows were too dark since we had always forgotten to bring a match. Or maybe we left our parachute and the fall was just too short. Too much speed. Too much ground. Not enough jump. Not enough air. The plane too low. Our landing too broken. But, no. It was probably the place where the curtain fell. It was probably that final bow. There’s no audience or standing ovation for players that don’t know their lines and aren’t sure which performance they’re giving. It was probably that. It was probably me. It was probably me, as not enough. My windows not deep enough to hold a flood. You should go back to the ocean. Get lost in her. I don’t blame you. It’s easier to stay lost. Its easier when the climate is temperate. It’s easier when the road leads to nothing and you don’t have to worry if you like the destination. When there’s nowhere to actually go. When there is no fall. It was probably me. It’s easier when you don’t have to memorize as many lines. Take that part. I don’t blame you. It has less surprises. The audience isn’t paying attention, but they’re all actors too. They’ll applaud. I promise. I don’t blame you. Lose yourself in the ocean. Drowning is better when no one knows you. I don’t blame you. I’ve always been not enough.

I’ve always been not enough.