Sitting here alone. How do I choose to be strong when all I can seem to do is exist in the memories of you and I? When I could lean over and brush my shoulder against yours in a rush of tingly fury. When you would write me love rhymes and raps to wrap me up in your arms and promise to never let me go. How could I have meant so much to you but nothing to you now.
I’ve been through a lot since you left and abandoned me to find myself on the ground in pieces with darkness above and around. It took me weeks to scrape whatever was left of me off the bedroom floor only to collapse once again in the kitchen. It’s not fair that I’ve been wringing my own neck, constantly squirming in pain while you meet the woman I prepared you for. The ache in my gut seems fatal. Death seems easy. I’ll make it through, I’ll keep telling myself that anyway.
Every moment is a new opportunity to miss you which I must turn away from because it’s not good for me to live in a reality that won’t ever be real. But my heart won’t seem to listen to logic, it doesn’t want to believe that you left me, so completely. So easily. It feels heavy because you were too afraid to carry it.
I’m just empty, devoid of a love that I felt you had promised to me. Maybe it was all a lie, maybe you tried, maybe it’s all for the best and I’ll be able to look back on this one day and understand. Maybe not.
What I do know is that I’m hurting because you left. And now I’m alone, and forced to be strong, and to figure out who I am in the darkness. And to lean in to what comforts my soul, because you broke me and now I’m broken.