A Breakup Metaphor

The cliff stands high and I hear the shifts before he does. I am ready. I always knew the rocks would avalanche, but I didn’t know how to make proper preparations and I didn’t want to worry the viewers. The scene is beautiful. Just look at those pink clouds.

The cracks are more audible now. Green Eyes tilts his head up at the skyline and reaches an arm out to me, suspecting, connecting the dots.

Park rangers signal the alarms.

Green Eyes is in hysterics. Confusion everywhere. Green Eyes shakes my shoulders but I’ve had my eyes closed for weeks.

My breaths want to catch on each other but I force them into slow successions because the first rock begins to fall

Its audible landing shakes the earth. Split in halves, the rock’s life is on display. There are lines. Strokes of every decade I’ve never seen. I think about that rock and all of the eyes it has looked into – many more than me. I wonder if he knows a thing or two about those with the green eyes. Maybe a part of reaching transcendence is learning to speak rock so we can ask them these things.

Green Eyes has his hands still on my shoulders. Eggshell knuckles.

Rocks continue to tumble and they fall near me. It’s only a matter of seconds.  I wince before the pain. It’ll leave a mark, but once I am struck Green Eyes let’s go.

I notice in the bathtub later moonrise that there are bruises everywhere. Most of them drape over my shoulders and curve around my back. There are some on my lips and some prominent on my jaw. Touching them feels like gentle loves and everything in between. For a moment, I think of the water pouring out form the faucet. Clear, unscathed stream like baby cheeks and the undersides of their palms.