I always knew. You knew.
A thousand thank
in my thoughts. Shoved under
many sleepless nights.
I have held fuck yous tight
between my teeth. Fearing
always of saying too much
I have never been one
to hold in my words, and lately
I’ve been having trouble
getting them out.
I am Finding them, hidden
beneath two years of guilt and confusion.
you were the one
who knew the whole time.
My pieces were scattered.
In every palm I traced.
I collected pieces of you left behind. Wondering always if you held
the secret that I
Two years and I
understand. It was never a secret.
We wear our traumas
Behind each set
of eyes we can find
You were the bent corner in a book I have been writing. Holding my place. So that I could return to this story, somewhere near the middle and remember how it ends.
I’m thinking of the line from “Big Fish” when he says, “this isn’t how I go.”
I’m thinking of the cliché, ” if it’s not okay in the end, then it’s not the end.”
I have sat wedged in between those two sentiments for over two years.
The anniversary of
our breakup is this Sunday.
I hadn’t thought about that until just now. It doesn’t hurt like it used to. Nothing hurts like it used to.
I used to stare at her and agony would fill my empty spaces. I lost her long before I left her. That is why I had to go. Does any one understand what it feels like to love someone so deeply, but they are so far from themselves it has become increasingly difficult to even recognize them? That is heart break.
Today, I look into her big green eyes with a new lens. It reflects the light through both her and I. That is why we keep our curtains drawn.
I’m sorry you knew before I did. But I am glad, too. Because without your knowing, I most certainly would have never learned.
So, thank you. For keeping her safe. For letting her grow. For changing our lives for the better.
go back to December2012, in the garage. After that bottle of Jameson hit her demons.
Rewind to October 2012. When you were discarded. September 2012, when you Thought she was someone special for you.
Keep going back.
August 2012, when she met you.
July 2012, when we cried together on the couch as I left my key on the coffee table.
June 2012, when I stayed in our house and she left for a while. That’s how I know what empty means.
May 2012, when enough had been enough but it still wasn’t enough.
Go back to December 2013 when fate finally caught up. November 2013, when you thought you might actually have her. October 2013 when being the friend wasn’t as easy as you were trying to make it seem. September 2013, when she finally stood up to me. August 2013 when your broken heart got lost in hers.
July 2013 when my heart turned to dust and it settled under the love seat where I plead, on my knees, for her to just let me stay.
Come here, May 2014. Where all those dust particles have come back together into a cohesive whole.
In japan, they mend broken things with melted gold.
For the past two years we have been making Japanese art of our hearts. In the last five months we have really figured out the trade. And today, we have mastered the peace. And that is love.