No one there

The boxes were stacked perfectly at my front door waiting for any princess. Glittery gold ribbons and cold, shiny boxes. I carefully placed them inside the privacy of my house. I called out, “Hello?” But there was no one-- as expected. Thinking maybe it would be different. But, no. It was not different. I watched my foot kick over your gracious mountain of love. My hands ransacked it all. Like a furious banshee, paper flying everywhere, I held up the pretty lace and string. Who was this for? Who would see me in this?

I burned your lingerie.

I watched the lace and string curl into hot wiry wisps that crumbled into ash and smoke. The pink boxes and crème tissue paper strewn around my limp body like a Barbie tomb.

Day 247

I lie in bed awake. It was 2:47AM. The thought crept slowly into my brain like a hermit crab adjusting its shell--you'd been gone for 247 days. The bizarre coincidence almost paralyzed me, head to toe. How strange. I didn't want the tears to roll down my face because (1)there were no more tissues next to my bed (2) I didn't want to get my shirt sleeves wet with snot and (3)my tears had learned to disobey me a long time ago.

I rolled over so the tears would soak into my pillow, but I quickly realized that this would be uncomfortable as well as the pool of sorrow grew exponentially larger. I quickly turned my pillow over and forced myself to sleep.

****

A long time ago we were two very different people. Individuals who were brought together for a brief time. And then by chance, happenstance? fate?, we were brought back together. I have to admit it was always in the back of my mind that this would happen, but who ever thinks it would come true. Thoughts never become reality. Brief ponderings on a sunny day in a coffee shop aren't portentous allusions. Maybe I needed to stop drinking so much espresso.

****

But you were gone now. "Not gone forever," you'd said. But still gone, I thought.
And you'd left before. For different reasons, granted, but still the familiarity of the goodbye hug, the last night spent together, the way we held each other in bed. Were you sleeping? Because I was not. The way we'd eat our last breakfast together, the quiet drive to the airport, the way you'd look at me while I pretended to be happy, the way I'd walk away, and driving back home alone.

****

You: Hey
Me: Hey, Grape Jelly.
You: Man, I can really go for some grape jelly, now. And pancakes.
Me: Come home, there's plenty here. I have three jars in my fridge, I think. All open and half empty.
You: You're silly. Why can't you finish a jelly jar.
Me: You're a jelly jar. Come home.
You: Soon enough. And then when I'm there you'll be tired of me.
Me: No, not really.
You: How's your day going?
Me: Alright, I guess.

We'd chat online for about 247 more lines.

You: Well, I'm wrapping things up here. Better let you go.
Me: ok
You: Talk to you tomorrow.
Me: ok

****

The distance becomes the cold fingers that claw at my throat. There are days when I feel like bursting. At least the pain wouldn't be so internalized. At least then, maybe I can breathe. Breathing's overrated, I guess. Soon it will all be a blur, like the seeds in the back of my mind that never seem to have the potential to bloom, but then all of a sudden one day, the sun shines and you see more than just your shadow.