I tried screaming so loudly to make the windows break and you'd finally hear me. The warm, leather seats did nothing to break apart the ice covering the words you'd whisper. The silence hurt the most, and every time I'd try to reach across the center consul, I'd realize how far away you were from me. I didn't care that you were hurting, too, but the tears you shed helped me see that you were still human.
I had built my house up from the foundation, and felt comfort in the newly painted walls that I finished myself. The framed pictures smiled at me, a triumphant physical evidence of the medals I earned in self-care. The plush carpets and cushions welcomed me home every night from a tired day at work, and I felt satisfied in where I was.
I gave you the spare key almost immediately, and felt no anxiety in doing so. I welcomed you in, showed you around, gave you a space to call home. And you did. The corner hook in the hallway looks lonely without your leather jacket there. It weighed as much as the stress you'd sometimes carry, and I helped slip the tension off your shoulders, hang it up, and walk away. Later that night when I'd press my fingertips into the knots on your shoulders, and you'd groan but say it was what you needed, I felt like a part of your world. You'd laugh about how my hands were always so cold, and you'd hold them with your own warm words and feelings. You'd wrap me up in your arms and I swear I haven't felt a more comfortable place to lay my heart. Your bed offered an escape I'd never had before, and I felt like I belonged. In between late night talks and bites of food you'd make me try, I sewed you into my routine. You were a strong thread and helped me pull together all my rough ends and patches. I am only realizing now that I am pricking myself with the seam ripper that I am not as independent as I once thought. I had never found such a color that matched so well with the fabric that compromised my being. You'd help me weave together a beautiful dress and spin me around on romantic dates and surprise dinners. I felt so welcomed in your embrace, and I felt myself fall freely for you, knowing you'd catch me. I am but a mishmash of different patterns and textures and you took them all, silencing my fears with a kiss. A kiss that took my breath away and made me weak in the knees, giving truth to the once-fruitless fairytales.
My shoulder is still bruised from where I fell. You ripped the carpet up from under me without giving me much notice. I thought I had time. I thought the meals and laughter we shared across the dinner table had provided enough. But it seems I was still starving. You apparently had cleaned your plate and left me nothing but meager leftovers. Bits of "nothing is wrong" sprinkled over top of "we're fine. I love you, too." I devoured these pieces as soon as you served them but felt no comfort. Instead they lodged themselves inside my throat and I choked out a ragged breath, begging you to help me breathe again.
Your eyes were cold, staring past me the entire time. I found nothing in the swirls of brown and green; where I once saw a happiness and love, I could only see my own reflection. Dull, lifeless voids had replaced eyes I had found so beautiful. I clung to the pathetic scraps of affection you would periodically throw my way. It seems you had nothing left in your pantry but over and over again I would reassure myself that you still wanted to sit at my table. I had laid the placemats out, lined the silverware, brought out the special glasses. A feast of everything I could give you rested in front of you. I had churned the sweet words myself, forming together a batter of acceptance and understanding which baked into a beautiful cake, decorated with the finest adornments I thought you deserved. As I sat down across from you, ready to dig in, I saw the table being flipped over. The bowls of mutual self-disclosure and respect crashed to the floor as the plate of shared interests splattered the walls like a sad portrait of what could be, but as it slid to the floor slowly, I knew it wouldn't hold.
I stared at the jagged edges of my slightly beating heart, sitting on the overturned table. You stood watching, too, unsure of what else to say. No matter how hard I chewed on my bottom lip, I couldn't break through the words you spewed, and instead tried to dry swallow, with little success. My throat burned with every second I had to listen to you break apart everything that we had built. The small shed in the backyard stowed all of our secrets. We'd lock them away and hide from the world, like children playing with flashlights under a blanket. I felt alive. You'd tell me stories from your past about how you've felt no emotion at all, and I'd come back with how I couldn't keep mine under control. We'd sit under our tent, laughing about how different we were yet how well we fit together. When the night was over you'd help me back inside my house, kiss me goodnight, and fill my head with sweet nothings until one of us fell asleep.
I set the shed on fire. You watched as my anger boiled into flames, rising high into the sky. The neighbors could see, and as they gawked at the site, whispers of confusion clouded the area with thick black smoke. The shed had been so well put together. The panels of wood holding it up looked as if they were picked out from the finest of stores, nailed together with strength, dignity, and such fierce attraction. How could it have fallen?
You watched it crumple to ground. And as I got in your car to drive away, I felt every shred of comfort being stripped away, burning in the left behind embers of the love you claimed you had. I screamed at you, begging for answers you couldn't find, not believing the sputtering apologies that fell from your lips. I felt the air clog around me. You had been lonely, and as I tried to pull away from those words, you simply held on tighter, making me hear all the things I thought you'd never say. You didn't mean to hurt me, but with every word you spoke I felt a knife running sharper into my chest, and I heaved out sobs as you watched, barely able to hold a napkin to my eyes.
Your arms around me felt like snakes, and I couldn't slip out of the constrictions. I felt the poison seeping into my skin as you tried to comfort me. Every image of us together played on the back of my eyelids, swollen with heartache. Every image of what I thought was a well put together puzzle, but now the pieces were scattered under the seats and in the glove compartment. My shaky hands tried to find all them to hastily smudge them back together, as if finishing the puzzle once more would turn back the clock to when you felt like home, instead of a suffocating embrace.
My heart stopped beating, and as much as I hated you holding me, I couldn't let go. I searched for familiar comfort, but with every grip of your jacket, I felt the familiarity slip away. You were gone, and instead a person I didn't know sat beside me, offering little help. I begged for the person I once knew to return. You grabbed the map from under your seat and tried to show me where I should go. Get my PhD, move out of louisville, find someone better. I stared at the empty roll of paper, confused about what you tried to tell me. I couldn't see a future, not now, not while I sat there.
I didn't want to find someone better. For once I thought I had met my match. I left the car, bewildered about what to do. My house was cold when I stepped inside.
