I have been busy scanning Corsmor’s photos from his albums this week – going back through his whole life. Very few of them are marked with dates so I am relying on his memory, which is excellent, his recall is uncanny.
It has been unnerving staring at pictures of past loves & friends – some of them are not even alive anymore. It does not feel like jealousy, but an emotion a lot like it which at the moment I find to be nameless. He has lived so many lives. Here, with me, he seems to have settled & he is happy – but I look at those photos & wish I knew all the stories, all the moments that he thinks of when he looks at them.
I am not enjoying the process at all – I thought that I would, but I am finding it more & more difficult. I have never been jealous of other women – certainly not his ex-lovers but looking at photos from their lives together, some that span half a decade or more is proving to be quite difficult for me. My stomach is upside down & today I have taken a break. Even after hours away the images are burned into my brain & I cannot shake this unnamed feeling.
I know what Corsmor would say if I told him this is how I felt & he would be right. He would say it is his past. That they are stories that make up who he is & I love who he is. He would say that he married ME & not them. That I am the one. That others were loved but that they did not last.
All that is logical & I understand that. Unfortunately, it does not make this unnamed feeling go away.
…Your love is like a studded leather headlock
Your kiss it could put creases in the rain
You’re rarer than a can of dandelion & burdock
And those other girls are just post-mix lemonade…
Violet Ashes 