We don’t know how to say
I’m sorry, I forgive you,
it’s all past, I love you still.
Instead, we talk of coverings for floors,
of paint brands, contractors,
electricians, the cost of wood.
We don’t know how to say
the pain’s too deep
to heal enough to see
each other face to face.
Instead, we call each other
once a week, we chat
about the weather
and the price of gas,
how awful travel
is these days.
We’re long-distance
family, we’re just
better off this way.
published in Medusa's Kitchen
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