It's Not About You

I said: It's getting better. Stronger, longer, I feel my edges sparking and the world goes blurry. I'm getting older.

You said: It's not about getting older; it's about who you're with.

I thought: It's not about you.

There was cold air around us, always. My heart was snowed in, plowed into a corner by your stick-shift jerks and shoves. It was always winter. We were winter.

It's still getting better. Stronger, longer, tricked with a short blast followed by a languid, shivering crescendo. My edges are thinned and my world is clear-skies. I've gotten older, again.

And it's still not about you.