Closure

Sometimes I wonder what closure is.

Then I slip from the tree branch breaking my fall and hit the ground. I roll to my feet and stop wondering because the bruises may fade but I have to leave behind the part of me dangling in that tree forever, waiting for the earth to shock me straight again.

Closure isn't made for the people who have to keep going. I won't linger on a broken memory and smooth the sharp edges because I don't have time for another self-inflicted cut. Leave the past in pieces. The only time I have is now and it's always running out.

Another deadline, another promise, another obligation. All the chains that drag me toward tomorrow that I bind myself in to stay whole. No buzzing, straining part of me can fly off alone when I've weighted it with see you later, I'll do it soon, save the date. No part of me can go touch that tree branch dangling and plan a better fall.

I always take the jump myself. Or pick the chains that pull me off the edge. No one here is pushing me to take another fall. If I got myself into this, can't I get myself out?

Sometimes I wonder what closure is.