Shut It

It’s like a neglected wound.
Most of the time I forget that it’s there,
but when I remember,
it’s like I got cut all over again.

To feel it is to be reminded that I was left:
as if I never mattered,
as if I don’t exist.
To feel it is to know that love will never be enough,
and that words dissolve right after they’re spoken.

So if you love me like you say you do,
show it by staying.
And if you ever leave,
be sure to shut the door.

written July 7, 2017.

3:00 AM

I used to like the pain,
now I want anything to numb it.
These days have passed by so quickly,
yet they seem to last so long.

I haven’t talked to you in quite some time now.
Finality has a weird kind of ring to it.
I can’t forget your smile,
but his has got me hooked.

No need for sorry - I’ve forgiven you already.
You’re out of sight, but remain at the edges of my mind.
You rest in regret, while I rest in relief.
I’ll be sure to send my love through silence.

written June 7, 2017.

Silly Little Tears

You told me not to fall for you.
You told me that I deserve better. 
You told me that you love me 
and that you want what is best for me.
It had been made clear that what was best,
wasn’t you.

Yet, you’re here,
with your tie undone and your eyes glossed over,
wondering if the man who’s waiting for me at the bar is mine. 
You ran in your expensive suit and designer shoes
to tell me that you hope it isn’t true: 
that I could have possibly moved on.

You’re standing in front of me,
like a puppy with its tail in between its legs.
I’ve never seen you look so weary.
I’ve never seen you look so lost.

“I have a boyfriend now,” I say. 
And before I can continue, your lips are trembling and tears are falling.
I’ve never seen you cry;
I never thought you could.

I’m in awe. 
It took years for us to end and even longer for me to recover.
My heart called out your name countless times, yet you refused to listen.
You waited until the man of my dreams took your place,
before you even considered trying to get it back.

So, why are you hurting?
You willingly made room for someone else to give me the world,
the moment you decided we would never have one.

written March 15, 2017.

Halfway

Sometimes, he would hurt me.
Sometimes, I would like it. 
Most times, I didn’t.
And when he would hold me,
it was because he wanted me held captive,
not because he cared.

When I cry, my tears are shed for the younger me,
who had hands in between her legs that didn’t belong there,
who was forced to trade in her childhood for maturation,
and became an adult long before she turned 18.

I don’t want you to wipe my slate clean,
in case you were wondering.
You can’t.
But I was hoping that I could start a new one with you. 
I could give you the love that you’ve been craving,
and you could render the kind that I’ve never received.

Can you do that?
Can you hold all of my broken pieces,
careful not to mix them with your own?
Can you cradle my heart without cutting your hands? 
Can you carry me when my feet are dragging so heavily,
that they begin to slow yours down too?

We understand each other in ways that our formers never could;
we adore the parts of ourselves that they didn’t want. 
Now, we’re presented an opportunity to become the type of people
that we never had.

So, what do you say?
Would you like to meet halfway? 
We deserve a “forever” too. 
I can’t make you whole,
but I’ll vow to make you better.
Just promise that by the time our ending arrives,
you will have done the same for me.

written March 10, 2017.

Six Months to Life

You ask me how I did it:
how I made an extremely difficult process look so easy.
You don’t know that it was excruciating from the start,
and that I’m nowhere near finished.

I had to remove the one person I wanted for the rest of my life,
from my life.
I had to detach myself from a part of my soul.
It started with one day, that turned into one week,
which turned into one month,
and before I knew it, I reached half of a year.

I haven’t coped,
I’ve just kept myself busy.
But those moments when I’m alone,
all of the memories rush to my head at once.

I want to tell him that my hands are sore from working such a long shift,
and that I’m coming over for chips and salsa.
I want to tell him all the good news about my day,
and how I’m evolving into the woman we both want me to become.

I may look like I’m okay, 
distancing myself from the one I love. 
But the truth is, in this sixth month,
I still want him,
just as much as I did on the day I decided to let him go.

written February 2, 2017.

Heal

Sometimes, 
I want to force my feet onto the floor
so that I can make my way out of bed. 
I envision myself heading to the bathroom
so that I can brush my teeth, 
shower, and start my day.

But most times, 
I don’t move.
If I do, it might be to eat,
or to get some more tissues. 

It’s not always the worst thing,
to lay here.
My memory works well, 
and because of that, 
I can write to relieve the thoughts 
that overtake me. 

That way, when I think of us kissing, 
I ache a little less. 
I wrap my arms around myself and 
get used to not having yours.

Today, 
I’m going to throw out my graduation and birthday cards;
even the handwritten card I never gave to you.
They’re all just reminders that I don’t need. 
As I mentioned before, I have enough.

Today, 
I’m not mad at myself for feeling the way that I do. 
There is no shame, or guilt, or denial. 
I’m allowing this recovery to take its course. 
I love you with all of me, 
so all of me must heal.

written January 24, 2017.