At The Crossroads.
I’ve known rejection and I bear the scars to prove it. I spend my life like a driver catching glimpses of it in my rear view, heart pounding and bile searing my insides.
They said “Tick-Tock” when we met, that you would soon tire of me, “there’s been a hundred before you” they warned. You’d introduced many to rejection in your time. It suited me well enough, a temporary contract would suffice.
But now you’re coming apart, your bones degrading, your eyes and ears are dulled. Your face is a well read map of a long life; your virility has forsaken you. It’s been 8 years and I’m 30 years older.
Tick-Tock, has become the sound of my years running away like water in a gutter. You say I keep you young, but you’re making me old. How is it that you don’t see it? I wonder whether you now catch glimpses of rejection in your peripheral vision and shut your eyes tight to wish it away?
So every day I face the thing I fear most, but it’s not here for me. I’m paralyzed; I can’t bring myself to show him your soft underbelly. So I remain at the crossroads, just me, rejection and the sound of a ticking clock.