Patricia Rogers

Misleading

The bags are packed and sitting at the door for the uber to arrive. The now extra key is lying in the little glass bowl on the table. I remain silent because there is nothing else to say. There are no words that I can conjure to make things right. The years continue to bleed into each other, one large clot of excuses that no longer justify the effort. Plus, there is more room in the closet. The one thing I already appreciate. Truthfully, I do not win in this situation, but eventually, I will heal. I do feel sorry though for the next one who will fall into the trap of possibilities, only to realize that some people can lie while telling the truth.

funhouse mirror
fragmented selves
contorting to fit