The day I met you – no, the moment I met you — I just couldn’t help myself. I went and built a home for you in my chest within the walls of my ribcage. I began careful construction of a lifelong home you’d have right here with me.
The moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew I wanted to protect you, hold you close, and spend the rest of my sunrises and sunsets beside you. But here is the thing: my head and my heart were not on the same page. Before I knew it, I decided that I wanted nothing more than to shield your heart from the elements, offer shelter from the storms that life would inevitably bring. But now that you’re gone, the quaint home I built for you is no longer the charming country cottage it once was. It has been set on fire, and the fire has spread. It is unrecognizable, just like my heart without you in it.
You abandoned your home, the little daffodil yellow house in the country with the wraparound porch. His and hers Adirondack chairs are now up in flames, beams are breaking and collapsing under the pressure of the inferno you set. You lit the match, tossed it on the gasoline soaked porch, and never looked back. The beautiful treed yard where our children were supposed to grow and play and dream is now unidentifiable. When you abandoned me, you walked away from our future. Every plan we made, every dream we shared – up in smoke, erased as if it was never there to begin with. Your impulsive mistakes cost us our life together.
I was the one who promised to always love you despite your flaws, your misgivings, your faults. But it wasn’t enough; I was never enough for you. And since you left, my heart, my sternum, every cell in my body has been set on fire, ablaze. Thick smoke billows, so heavy I cannot breathe. It swells in my ribcage, prolific and so unforgiving. Your betrayal is suffocating.