I moved into our apartment today.
When we first went to see it you walked in and smiled. Your eyes lit up as you said: ‘I have never seen something so beautiful, this feels like home’
Right after I had moved in alone, I invited you into what could have been and showed you again how beautiful it was. I brought you into the back bedroom and I asked you to look at the floor. It looks as if it had spent lifetimes being walked over and loved in a way that wasn’t quite right. I pulled the corner back to show you what was underneath.
As I drove you away from everything I created. And back towards your own creation… I cried so hard that I forgot how to swallow. Pain you only read about in books from poets who drink too much and hate their wives.
You put your hand on my thigh and tried to comfort me. It was too late, it had always been too late, too early and never at all.
I thought of the first time I ever met you. My eyes lit up as I said: ‘I have never seen something so beautiful, this feels like home’
As I dropped you off for the last time. I screamed out every inch of what was left inside of me. I bought some beer Lit a cigarette Blew a line and smiled.
We have lived lifetimes together. And I have come so close to learning the lessons of each that pass. Love, Communication, Kindness, Strength, Chaos. Patience. Patience.
Turns out the hardest one this time around has been to learn how to let you go. Because you weren’t ready. Because your eyes asked me to.
As I continue to head back to our apartment alone, I will think of you always.
Because I know what’s underneath the carpet.