Glass

Glass

I stand still looking at the floor.
My eyes glued to the tiny shards of glass;
pieces that used to make up my cup;
fragments now splayed across the room.

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Your Wedding Day

A couple months ago, I had a nightmare.

In my dream, you proposed to your girlfriend at Walmart, with me just a couple steps away.

I woke up, heart pounding, head spinning.

No matter how much I tried to shake it off, to go back to sleep, I couldn’t get that image out of my head. The image of you on your knees, asking this other girl to spend the rest of her life with you, seared into my brain.

The only thought that circled my mind that night was: You are the one that got away.

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Let go of them, darling

Dearest,

There comes a time in your life when it’s time to say, “Enough,” and walk away. I know deep within you lies a fear of ending up alone, rising levels of anxiety each time you lose someone special to a break-up, death, neglect, or distance. That makes walking away entirely too difficult.

And I definitely want to validate that, sweetpea. It takes courage. Sometimes, it takes everything you’ve got to ignore that text, reject that call, physically walk away, and defriend/unfollow them on social media. The amount of strength you find within yourself in doing so may astound you.

Let go of them, darling.

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It’s Not There Anymore

It’s Not There Anymore

Tear me open, shred my skin;

Crack my ribs, and reach inside my hollow body.

Your hands grasp at the empty spaces,

demanding for my heart.

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Words I Will Never Say

Found in my diary:

It took everything in my power to pull away.

I knew if I had let myself, I would have fallen deeply, fallen head over heels, fallen nose over knees for you.

I would have drowned in your scent; I would have been overpowered by your voice.

I would have buried myself in your presence.

These are words that I’ve choked back, hoping my feelings will dissolve, hoping my heart will forget.

Conversation I Will Never Have

“I’m sorry.”

These two words tumble out of her mouth, no preamble, no explanation, no flourish, no nothing.

He stares at her, anger behind his eyes.

“What the fuck happened? You just disappeared without a word. And that’s all you have to say?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She looks down at her hands.

“I deserved better than that,” he says slowly.

“I know. I’m really sorry.”

“Well,” he says aggressively. “Are you going to explain yourself?”

“I don’t think you’d understand,” she says quietly.

“Try me.”

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Apologies and Explanations

Dear 99% of the World,

I wish I could stop having to apologize for needing space.

I wish I could stop having to apologize for hating March and April.

I wish I could stop having to apologize for wanting to stay in and veg out by myself.

I’m tired of apologies I do not mean. I’m tired of apologies that seem to add transparency to my skin. I’m tired of having to hide myself away. I’m tired of feeling shame for how I feel.

I know it’s frustrating to not know why I’m feeling this way, but you aren’t my family, you aren’t my best friend. I don’t owe you any apologies or explanations.

Please know it’s not personal.

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That Moment – 2

Moment Number 2.

She walks up the stairs of her building, opens the door to her floor, and begins down the long hallway to her door.

With step number 5, the world turns darker, the hallway seems longer – almost endless, and her heart dissipates within her body. The weight of the world crashes on her head, the feeling of emptiness drop kicks her in the stomach, and the sense of worthlessness trips her in her 6th step.

In that moment her head spins, and she can feel with every particle of her body that her life is pointless. All she hears inside her head is, What’s the point?

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That Moment – 1

Moment Number 1.

It’s that moment of stillness and silence, except for the even breathing and hearts beating. It’s that moment when you are in the arms of someone you care about, in the safety of whatever it is that encircles you both. It’s that moment of pure warmth and comfort.

It’s that moment you feel the kisses on your shoulder, arm, top of your head, and temple. It’s that moment you caress his chest, feeling the soft chest hair under your fingers. It’s that moment of your legs intertwined with that of his. It’s that moment of your breaths synchronizing with the rise and fall of his chest.

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Fear of Love

I stood in front of the door for eight full minutes before I pressed the doorbell.

He opened the door holding several bills in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” he asked looking bewildered and somewhat concerned.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

We both looked at each other. He then waved me into his living room.

“He said he loved me.”

There was a beat of silence.

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