Spelunking

I have been visiting a place where I had spent years, but had never seen in quite this way.  I recently returned from the cave of my former spouse’s mind.  I was surprised how easily I remembered its labyrinths.  When I lived there I couldn’t always find my way out and I was inured to the scent of the wet dust of nursed resentments and the angry eddies in its cold streams.  These often led to lovely open caverns where the unnatural light bathed us in its glow; I tried to prolong the visits to these welcome spaces.  Too often, I was led off, following willingly through the treacherous, darkened passages that were familiar, but ever-changing.  They showed few exits.  Occasionally sunlight would pierce this world through narrow openings I would claw against these hollows seeking a way for us both to get out.

That work took often took too long and I would find myself outside, alone.

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