cold feet

i was partway out the door for a while, if i’m being honest. i saw

the writing on the walls and deep down i knew that they were

coming down around us.

i didn’t pack all my bags at once. at first it was just a purse, maybe

an overnight bag. i would escape for a day or two in the arms of

somebody else, or even just for some solitude, but i would always

come home. on the walk up to the front door, i was hoping and

praying that maybe while i was gone you’d cleaned up the mess

you’d made. but it was the same. i thought, maybe if you felt what

it would be like to lose me, you’d change.

but you never did change, because while i might’ve been partway

out the door i still had my clothes packed away in the drawers and

my books on the shelves. you knew i’d keep coming home. you

weren’t feeling what it would be like to lose me because you weren’t

losing me. you never had to beg me to come back.

you didn’t need to.

is this what it feels like

to watch a love die,

trapped within cages,

fingers straining but

just out of reach?

is this how it feels

to hold a story

in your hands

but have the pages crumble

when you try to turn them?

how long have i been grieving this, really?

how long have i known this was coming?

when i decided that i was done holding on to nothing, you gave me

something to wrap my hands around.

when i decided that i was done putting my time into somebody

who didn’t have any to spare for me, you suddenly had hours to

spend on us.

when i decided that i was done fighting to get you to treat me

right, you finally wanted to start trying.

when did we really start to fall apart?

maybe it was in september,

after you ignored me for three days,

and used the line

talking to you just hurts

as an excuse.

it wasn’t october, i know,

for that was one of the few months

where you were truly good to me;

you were honest and communicative

and i was so happy to be yours.

i thought the hard part was over.

so perhaps it was in november

when you suggested that

we shouldn’t be exclusive,

because distance is hard

and i got a sick feeling in my stomach

that i should have listened to.

it could have been in december,

when you lied to my face

about being with other girls

to make me feel bad

for even considering

going on a date with somebody,

casually telling me the truth

only after i’d ruined a friendship

and broken someone’s heart.

it could have been in february,

when you kissed another girl

ten minutes after you kissed me goodbye.

at least you told me about that one, i guess.