Today was The Day.
Truck rented, boxes assembled, taped.
I was the one to pull your shirts out of my closet.
The smell of sweat, the indentations in the carpet, the white walls.
All the overwhelming absence of you crushes me.
I’m trying. I am trying.
Ole Memory Lane is pocked with blown land mines.
I have never felt so completely heartbroken.
Not even when my mother died, as that held a shred of relief from pain.
Tears come, stream, dry, flood again.
I am allowed this day. This day of hell.
I am allowed to utilize Repeat and my bathrobe and chocolate.
I am allowed to deconstruct today.
These first 24 hours, the deepest, darkest of holes before climbing out for air.
After all, tomorrow I will be strong again.
Tomorrow I will clean up and be bright again.
Today, though, I am allowed bad poetry and headaches from sobbing.
Stitches throb in my side from being torn in half with one piece moving an hour away.
How utterly beautiful and graphic we were.
Shiny, glossy, bloody, laughing.
Those fires like the stars burning underneath...
Finally leaving at 1am, my heart only full of adrenaline, all blood pooling in my feet, trying to hold my soul steady so I can’t go.
What can be said about the emptiness now,
Except that today was The Day. Hell Day.
But tomorrow won’t be.
