Soon, you will leave.
I think that is partly why I am so happy. It will be a release, a small window of time in which I can fly free, soar through space: be a comet burning and bright.
I need you gone. When I walk through the house, I walk through filtered memories, over the stain of tears on the carpet, past that place where love became rage so quickly.
Numbness consumes me. When we touch, my fingertips bounce off of you as though made of rubber. They feel nothing and leave no sensation behind. You ask me if I love you and my tongue swells up, filling my mouth, giving you an answer of silence even though inside I am screaming at you: YES.
Night brings with it the heaviness of the day, the gripes we ignored until they all come pouring out under the stars. Accusations and resentment, a fortress of destruction. We are two stick figures, waving swords haphazardly on the battlefield, hoping we hurt the other. Praying we don’t.
I need you gone.
This morning you cradled me in your arms. I didn’t pull away when you held my hand, stroked my back, soothed me. You seemed cautious, as if expecting me to leap from you like a startled deer.
I didn’t move, but I did come closer, atom by atom. It was safe electricity, a shadow of the untamed lightning that used to flash between us. The crackle and fizz was familiar, still.
Seconds ticked by and we still didn’t move. You looked at me and I at you and we breathed each other in. We were so close in that moment, closer than we had been in eons. It was a closeness that overrode the hurtful shouts and apologetic tears.
We let no darkness in for the rest of that day. We laughed and baked and carried out chores as if nothing was about to happen. I walked you to the bus stop and kissed you goodbye, telling you this would be good for us. Telling you not to be silly, we need this. I need this.
I watched as you waved from the window, the bus drawing further and further away. Your face became a pale dot in the distance as you mouthed at me the words: ‘I love you.’
I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.
Pain came rushing in where once the numbness had been, but this pain was different. This was my own pain, my guilt, my regret, my solitude. My wish that I could be someone different, do something other than push you away.
Leave. Don’t leave.