Simple & Clean

Fireflies

I sank to my knees as I watched the man I love slip from my fingers like sand in an hourglass.

And like that sand, I can't make him stop leaving me. I can't convince him to come back and hold me as I cry.

I knew this was coming. We both did.

But I didn't expect it to hurt this much.

It felt like someone was squeezing and pulling my heart, my blood slowly pouring out. It felt like someone had punched me in the gut with a steel arm. It felt like nothing else I had felt before.

"Please..." I choked out. "Oh, baby, don't go..."

He doesn't hear me say that as he walks away.

His words were a tantalizing echo racking my mind.

I'm sorry, Scott. I hate to be the one to do this, but I have to. We're through. I understand if you never want to see me again. But if you ever want to see me again, call me, okay? Good-bye, Scott. I love you.

I want to see him again. I can still make out the hairs on the back of his neck. I can still see him, but I want to see him again.

I love you.

That was the last thing he told me before he spun on his heel and walked away, without looking back.

Did he really mean that? Did he think it would soften the blow?

If he thought the latter, he was dead wrong.

It only made it hurt that much more.

He loves me, but he knows we can't be together, as do I.

It's so painful. So. Freaking. Painful.

I tried to keep the tears coming, but I broke down as soon as he turned around.

He approaches me at my apartment, saying we needed to talk.

Most would say, "Okaaay?" and follow them reluctantly.

I knew what he meant. And I didn't want it to happen. But I stood beneath the porch light with him, fireflies fluttering around the white light.

The hot summer breeze ruffles his loose-fitting Taylor Swift tank.

He avoids my gaze at first, then he shakes his head, looks at me right in the eye, and says his parting words.

Here I am now, sobbing beneath the firefly-ridden porch light as he gets into his car.

I listen as his tires make the gravel crunch, the rev of the engine, and I listen to them fade.

I hug my knees to my chest, my tears staining the knees of my jeans.

My only company is the fireflies.

Do fireflies experience heartbreak? Do they love? Do they cry?

I doubt it. They're just dumb insects that people put in jars and then set them free again.

Then again, isn't that what love is like? You find it, catch it, then set it free.

Maybe that's why they call the one that could've been the one the one that got away. Because you didn't catch those fireflies in that jar.

Maybe that's why there's that old saying. "If you love it, set it free." Oh, the memories of childhood when you caught fireflies. You didn't want to let them go because they were so pretty. But then you were talked out of it, because if you kept them, they would die.

I'm a firefly. Alex caught me and kept me in his jar for nearly three years, and now he's setting me free.

Do fireflies miss their captors? Do they love them? Do they not want to leave them either once they're set free?

If not, then I am one overly-emotional firefly.

I mourn my being set free until the fireflies fly away and the sun begins to rise.