Boom goes the dynamite

Life has this way of spinning its web of chaos in a perfect, complete circle.
And I find that frighteningly beautiful.

Weeks and weeks ago, far too many to count, I received an email of finality from a flame that fails to extinguish.
Drinking in its sincerity I trusted each words validity and assumed it really would be the last reminder of such vibrant ardor.
I sang a tuneful acceptance and looked ahead towards days void of scars.

Simultaneously, as though the next stanza of my refrain, I heard from a new man.
This seemingly lost and wounded soul reached out with an urgency that tugged my heartstrings, in need of new company, of distraction, of the overpowering presence that was me.
Wary, uneasy, I relented, uncertain of what possible benefit could derive from such interactions.

None worth knowing, to quench your curiosity.

More weeks passed, again too many to count, and I found myself entangled in his web of inconsistency.
Some eves full of tears and tunes, others with chilling contempt.
Newness seemed to be following me like a rain cloud overhead and other players entered the weeks scenes as well.
Kisses were had, secrets were shared.
One took his exit, while another drew beside.

And still the overwhelming nagging beating within me would not relent.
Something was rotten in the state of Portlandia.
And as Fate's cleverly woven web should have it, I was about to get stuck in the overpowering discovery of truth's right hand.

A girl as verbose as I, truly we are a most peculiar breed, crossed paths with me in a most timely way.
Conversation was exchanged, pleasantries and such, and somehow, as the words would have it, she began revealing details to me about this new mans past.
Details shocking and upsetting, details that made me want to kick the wounded puppy he had claimed to be.
I grappled with how to handle the heavy information and what words suffficed such communication.

But two very timely coincidences occurred within the days surrounding such discoveries.
The new man in question suddenly lacked the effort time for me deigned.
And the old flame's finality was forgotten and he reached out with surprising swiftness.

I had to laugh at life's simplistic poetry.
One door closes and another opens.
That door closes and conversely, the old door cracks itself back open, for just a peek.

I had gotten over one dear.
I was cured.
Now to get over the cure.
Who sadly had been nothing but a hologram of supposed affection anyway.

It certainly wouldn't be hard to forget because the truth had revealed there was nothing there to have been had.
Merely words. words. words.

Where actions fail, words endure.
Mine were endless, continual, full of sincerity, laden with meaning.
He, however, was not.
And what untangling freedom releases in that truth.