The Stagnancy of a Chestnut

There were things left unsaid---

as there often are

and I wasn't ready to say them

And things that were premonitions---

wafting and settling at the bottom of my insides

and I was okay with that

for now

But there were slower walks to be had

and repeated memories that were asked of me---

instead of told

and I loved them all the more

And the dysphoria---

that now functioned

with or without me

And all these transitive properties---

weren't just that