Dear ɒ!xɘꞁƨʎᗡ,

Dear ɒ!xɘꞁƨʎᗡ,

My wife…

She thinks I’m a genius because of you.

She thinks my accuracy in recognizing disruption is because of you.

She thinks when I get angry because the napkin isn’t placed where it’s supposed to be, it’s because I’m tired of seeing everything change in front of me.

Because I’m tired of redefining things that are constantly changing.

And when I see her,

exactly like she is,

She feels naked.

And I think she’s afraid of that.

She fears my recognition;

that I would redefine her.

She fears my confrontation.

She fears that I would recognize how her love for me has ‘changed’.

Because she fears how I would start looking at her ‘differently’.

But doesn’t she know that every night…

I recognize her steady breaths.

I recognize her synchronized heaving chest.

Doesn’t she realize how her heart doesn’t skip a beat when I’m near,

That her structure is what I fear.

Doesn’t she realize that I recognize lack of change as well.

Our love has changed…

I ‘see’ it perfectly now.

I have lost her.

Dear Dyslexia,

I have lost her.