It's a Thursday night, and I can't seem to find the shut-off valve. I looked under the sink. I looked under the porch. I looked in the garage. I looked in the attic. I looked in the bathroom behind the sink, and I looked in the basement, and I checked the water heater, and the electricity box. I checked behind the stove, the toilet, the faucet, the closet. I just can't seem to find it. And the water just keeps rushing. Rising, and now it seems I'm ankle deep. It must be because I'm in a new house, but it seems as if I'm lost at sea. Standing ankle deep, in new waters, wondering what now?
You were the only one who knows. Knows how fast my heart beats at night when I'm lying next to you. Knows how cold I feel when you're gone. How every time you touch me my skin gets chills, and goose bumps riddle my arms like I'm a leper. You were the only one who I ever trusted. You were what made me smile in the morning, and come home at night. You made me breathe. And now, I'm breathless.
It's a Thursday night and I can't seem to find the shut-off valve. I've checked everywhere. I've looked under the sink, under the porch. I looked in the attic. Scoured the bathroom. Checked behind the stove, the toilet, behind the faucet, deep in the closet, and found nothing. Only empty walls. I walk into the living room, and find unopened boxes, waiting to be torn into, and furnish the emptiness. It's a Thursday night, and I feel so broken without you here. And I look down, and I'm knee deep, and the water is still rising. I just can't seem to find the shut-off valve.
I'm twenty-five years old now. It's been a while since we last saw each other; perhaps too long Sometimes at night, when I'm trying to fall asleep, I try to find your face in my thoughts, and all I can see is your eyes. Has it been that long? That I can no longer picture your smile, your nose, your cheeks I so kissed, or your cherry lips. Your velvet black hair has faded even in my most vivid memories. But then, sometimes when I'm lying alone, I can smell the perfume you used to wear. I wish you could see me now, moving into my first house, See what I've become, the person you've helped me become. And when times like these happen I just wish I had said such simple words to your face. Perhaps it would have changed everything.
It's a Thursday night and I can't seem to find the shut-off valve. I looked under the sink, under the porch. I looked in the garage. I scoured the attic, and still nothing. I looked in the garden. And still nothing. The water kept rising. I hope I have flood insurance. I'll have to call a plumber in the morning. Maybe, I can get a discount rate if I pay in cash. The water is around my waist. And I feel cold. And numb. I'm lost at sea, and I think I'm drowning. And nobody sees me. I'm invisible.
I look in my address book. Maybe I can call someone. They could help. I look through the contacts. Brooke. Brooke work. Brooke cell. Brooke's Mother. Brooke's Father. Jerry my lawyer, Harrell, and Phillip, her doctors. And I realize there's none to call. My life ended when we ended. Sometimes, I would give my life to hold you one more time. All I wanted to say was just three simple words. And you never heard them, not from me, anyways. And now, when all I want is some company, I can't seem to find the shut-off valve.
Fight on, everyone tells me. I will surely break, I tell me. It's been two years, and still the water keeps rising. I don't think I can stop it. And now, I'm in my empty new house, with all my empty suitcases, and boxes. With all my empty picture frames, and all my empty wine glasses. All this empty jewelry, all of it, lost at sea. Cast overboard with the tide. You once told me "If everything disappeared in a flash of light, and I was all that was left, why live?"
I can't find the shut-off valve. And I'm sinking, drowning, fighting off the crashing waves every night, and every moment. And every moment, I'm sinking in my own fears and tears.
So now it's Friday morning. And before going to work today I decided to come to you. Your still in the same place I last saw you. Six feet under, but I like to think you can still hear me, somehow. I'd like to think you can hear the words I'm saying. I can't keep on this way. Me and you, we need to make our peace. I can't fight off restless demons for the rest of my life. I wish you were here. Really here. And we were on a walk through the park, instead of me in the park, trying to find a shut-off valve at your tombstone. The house feels so empty without you. So I come to you one last time. I need to tell you something. I need to tell you that when you got in that car-crash, on your way to meet me for dinner, I had every intention of asking you to marry me. And that you have no idea the way I felt and feel about you. You were everything. And now, I'm nothing. But I can't stay like this. I can't stay---a broken man--forever. I must repair, fix myself. Maybe I'll paint those drab empty walls. So I can find that shut-off valve. So I come to bid you ado, and let you know, that I'll always love you.
.
