WHEN YOU TOUCH THE TRUTH: by thought, word of mouth, friend, or by a dream, however, it comes, and completely unexpectedly it is, the blessing is it came. 
When it is closure, to events and persons in those events, and if you examine your part, what you played, was it original or falsified, was it genuine, and was it worth it. Asking myself these questions, as the door, locked sealed and intendable, must be the abstraction of goodbye, delete, it’s over. My double vision, the child must behave for now, and let the adult lead me. I tell myself over and over, to keep that door closed, and look to now, the moments, they may starve me of imaginations and dreams, and that’s just what happens when a change has arrived at your doorstep. I do hate goodbyes, never have been an example of someone who moves on, like an octopus, my arms hang on to the best people, places, and homes in my life.
Three days later: The door is locked now, it will pop open now and then, in my interior rearview mirror. My secret can only be revealed after mounds of trust have been sifted and sealed. The former LouLou trusted, effortlessly, so the truth is I cannot behave that way anymore. Or can I?
It is the most destabilizing force of emotion to accept I trusted someone who betrayed our thirty-five year Huckleberry Friend trust. I don’t know how anyone else adapts to this. I’m kinda staring out the window, like a cat staring at an unreachable mouse. When I’m in this mood I listen to Bobby Darin and Tony Bennett, I’m a bleeding nostalgic.
The inner voice where gaps of expression are liberated. 