98f4ed8990212975211bf6a79b9597dc    I like the word rock.

I use it a lot.

I mostly use it for you

I thought you enclaved the word.

Rocks are nice.

They are hard to break,

They feel solid, opaque in the grip of your palms,

They don’t just slip through,

They stay.

That’s why I called you a rock and not a pebble.

Because you weren’t always smooth and beautiful,

You were rugged around the edges,

Rough to hold on to sometimes,

Because you even hurt,

But you were always yourself,


And so you were a rock, my rock.

I thought that only something massive could break rocks, especially ones like you.

Like natural disasters, you know

Or maybe when the seas pound at you with all they’ve got,

Yea, that could do the trick as well.

I didn’t see any of that happen though.

It was sunny day after sunny day,

Calm winds, clear skies, wonderful current,

So could you please just tell me what happened?,

Because I still come to the shore to look for you,

Just where I’d left you,

Just where we could pick off from,

But I don’t always see you there anymore,

Where did you go? How did you go? Why did you go?

Sometimes you surprise me, oh yeas,

And then we have those few conversations,

Where I tease you about the pebbles you could never befriend,

And you tell me how the sea has been trying to conquer you day after day,

We have those conversations and for a while it feels like you are still a rock,

But then the next day when I am back at our spot, you vanish,

You vanish, and I know rocks can’t vanish, no.

It doesn’t make sense.

I look at all those little amulets and talismans I made,

With your name, your essence hanging from it,

Like my blessing, like my rock,

And where are you now?

Where are you?


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