Last year, you broke my spine when you spat out the words “I don’t love you anymore”, and I cowered under the table while you tore our lives apart. The seams were drenched in my blood, you threw the shreds at my feet and watched me weep.
I had grown to love the mug that was big enough for two, and even when I threw it at the ground I knew I was destroying a piece of myself too. I wish we hadn’t fused our lives together so eagerly, now there are too many things that remind me of you.
I ran my nails down the small of your back and dug them deep into your skin, wanting to leave a mark but knowing it would fade too quickly to leave any lasting impression. I drew my name onto your chest and whispered “Please don’t leave, not yet, please just stay” but she wiped me away and you told me it was too late.
Those last few months we had soldiered on like it was our duty to be calm and twisted. I confess, I had read so many love stories I thought we’d be strong enough to move mountains. But the truth came crashing down when it became obvious, we couldn’t even climb a hill without pointing fingers and appointing blame.
I spent New Years Eve cleaning out my closet, throwing out the ugly shirts you thought I looked good in, while the songs we used to listen to filled up my thoughts without my permission and one glass of wine had me drowning in reminiscence. I risked a glance at the mirror and saw a skinny girl with holes in her eyes instead of windows. Suit up, put on your armour, this is gonna hurt.
This year I will learn how to be alone. I will become accustomed to the silence, to the absence of phone calls and text messages, to never seeing your name on my screen again. I will forge emails that feign forgiveness, learn a new sort of redemption, and promise not to harm another soul by cruel omission.
You will always be the strongest burden, the rock that tries to pull me under while I’m learning to swim. I sought you out in all the darkness and now you’ve stolen my light. Somewhere, someone is blowing out my candles.
I discovered a new name and find I prefer it. I left behind my old mistakes, drawing attention away from my scars with black nail polish and bright red lipstick.
This year our war won’t hurt so much, you’ll kiss a new set of lips and I’ll try to forget the way you tasted so cool and sweet during the summer we spent together. When winter comes my legs will be wrapped around our old tangled sheets and he’ll say my name the wrong way. I’ll think about you and imagine her, all her softness pressed against your strength, I’ll wonder how long it’ll take you to break her.
When you fall from the stairs and break your leg, they put you in a comfortable bed and mend your bones. But when I fell from your arms and broke my heart, no one taught me how to keep breathing. The way you say my name makes me weak, and there are not enough things that remind me of you.