I found a slip of paper with your address
It didn't hurt to see it, not like it did when I tore it out of my notepad
I've justified keeping it for "revenge"
on who? your mom? it's her house; she didn't do anything
But, it didn't hurt this time
I crumpled it up and took a breath and threw it in my trash can
It was gone but not really
I want it to be gone, I want to move on
I lit an almost-burned-out candle, the small flame grew taller as it enveloped the purple paper ball
A delicate stream of smoke rose; the smell of burnt paper filled my room
I watched the flame dance while it slowly turned the paper into ash
The candle, now liquefied and exhausted, begged to be put to rest
But the flame desperately clung to the worn out wick, anything to stay alive; almost screaming "what if" and "but"
pitifully attempting to justify its needless existence
I want to move on
Why am I grasping at anything to keep this memory relevant?
I want to move on
Why is it so hard?
But seeing the paper didn't hurt this time
The smoke, like a Phoenix of catharsis, rose from the ash and melted wax
I can finally put it out
I gently place the lid on the jar
The flame that had been so tall and alive became meek and helpless
It's gone now
I am moving on,
So mote it be

i mourned
us
on the train back.
North East to London,
Norfolk into Suffolk into Home.

England,
a green, scarred patchwork,
blistering apart while i sit.
A woman opposite tries to coax the
context
out of me; the entertainment,
before we're pulled into Liverpool St Station.

to credit my memory -
it frames itself nicely, my mugged up
glasses.
a sunbeaten, reddened, ruddy face -
holding back.  swallowing the
outburst -

"i let myself believe for once."

we sit.
the quiet unbroken.
save for the sounds of me
steadily
getting further from you.  

the sounds of me steadily getting further from you.

i mourned us once again.
ten months in and now
six months out
filled with immeasurable moments later.
there was no woman this time.
and only without her
or us -
i found the truth to say

"i let myself believe, for once."

to hear the words, “i was scared” fall from your lips was all the closure i thought i needed.
but i have my answers now, and i don’t feel much better. maybe i feel worse.
closure is a ******* hoax.
my mind can’t leave something behind if it doesn’t make sense to me,
and no explanation will ever make this make sense.
there will always be more questions, more questions, more questions…
i’ll live with the weight of it until they become background noise, like the videos i fall asleep to
until i know they’re there but i can’t hear what they’re asking or what it all means anymore.
but the thought that you couldn’t love someone who would have died for you
god, i wish that thought could leave me the way that you did.

I remember the closure.
I took it.
Then put my headphones in.
I heard those notes play in that specific order
& I heard the emotions reverb through the passing era.

I heard your words &
I felt the pain from a third person perspective.

I heard that versions train of thought spiraling in some moments.

I felt the ground on my feet in summer as I paced across the parking lot;
Asking if I am actually missing gaps in the timeline.

Asking if there was something wrong with me.

I saw some of the good &
Said goodbye to it all.

When I got up;

I felt a weight lifted off my shoulder.
& A haunting image of a face off of my mind.

Anxiety went away with time.

Years later;
I woke up & the rose had died.

My heart didn’t hurt;
I swear I have feelings.

Don't feel so special

I've been abused,
Forcefully used,
Yet you think you can blow my fuse?
Don't feel so special.

I've hacked & sliced at my own skin,
Barely living,
So thin,
But you worry if you hurt my grin,
Don't feel so special.

You could have called me every bad name under the sun,
shot me with a gun.
But I've hurt me, more than you've ever could.
So don't feel so special.

I don't need closure,
Unless its from stitches,
Mending the pieces I've broke from myself.
But the damage you've done,
Is nothing I haven't done to myself.

So don't feel sorry.
Hold your tears of guilt upon a shelf.
They mean nothing to me,
But only for yourself.

So don't feel so special.
You are nothing but another person who dared to hurt me,
But only hurt themself.

in just 30 mins
i hear her voice
see her face
touch her hands
the heat of her embrace
yet I feel nothing
we can now properly talk like normal people
and the best part of it is
i feel relieved
because I am now sure
that the woman I'm with right now
is the one that I want to be
for the rest of my life.