A slice and A sliver

I frequent moments  of lightweight memories from when we used to be happy.  I don’t allow phases of time to pass.
Bitterness would encourage me to say you weren’t worth it.
But you were.  We were.
Nevertheless, I dissected myself into categories, into roles that fit our pseudo-1950’s lifestyle.
Soon my emotions became a visually literal pie chart and slice by slice I rationalized the way I attempted to convince myself that love looked.  No amount of logic could understand the graph I had so cautiously created.
Data went unnoticed.  And unused data becomes forgotten soon.
Time and Trial and Error propelled me into present day bliss.
I stopped pretending to “play house” and began creating a home.
I don’t need to wrap myself in memories on cold nights because I have warm arms to secure me.
Are you sad that I have a sliver of romantic happiness after using so many pencils to chart my graphs?
Or that I used all my paper to start the fire that my flame and I will make love beside while you stare in the fireplace and remember when?
I still have a sliver of resentment that’s taken a slice of my soul.


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