It was the kind of cold like in the Spring when that unexpected spot of shade is 20 degrees cooler than everywhere else and you're surprised. You pulled up, the dirt climbing your car like ivy on a fortress wall, without eye contact. There was that sense that something was different, that all things were about to be different. I spent the last day with a feeling in my stomach as if I was perpetually going over the railroad tracks on Front. You were never good at being cryptic.
The words: "I need a break", roll off your tongue like you've been
practicing them for 3 hours straight. No eye contact still, like a
presentation you started the night before. I asked if you ever even
loved me, and in a cracked voice you said that it was the worst day of
your life having to tell me you wanted a break and that you'd always
love me. You're just a ghost now.
That one day in August was the day you changed, and for once I can say that it wasn't me. It's been 4 months and the world you've been in isn't the same as mine. At some point you have to pack up your grief in a suitcase and leave it at a dark corner so you can function again. There's only so much heartbreak I can watch you handle, my heart isn't the relentless drummer it once was. I left that in a suitcase in a place I can't go back to. I can't pretend any longer that I can be stable enough for the both of us. It's hard to watch the person you love fall out of love with everything, I don't know how to turn that into poetry.
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