There are as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the year’s course. Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word ‘happy’ would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. — Carl Jung
It was one of those days
during one of the weeks
of the month I never got out of bed.
I came here to forget,
to forget you, to forget how much
I love you, to fall out of love
no matter how long it would take.
I came here for separation
from one into two again.
To rediscover the parts
of me, lost in us, that are
still me, not attached to you.
If I had held anything back,
the pain would still be the same.
But I was trying to forget, not remember
our first rainy Sunday morning
in bed wrapped in a rainbow
of unending joy.
Now in this empty nest of sheets
and pillows I can find no comfort,
from my memory of you,
there is no escape.