I woke up this morning feeling empty, numb. I was encased in a bubble of protective glass and I couldn’t escape. I went outside to see the sky erupting all around me, crying all the tears I can’t feel. My eyes ache from all of this nothingness.
The pools of water grow larger and larger in front of my eyes and I blink hard, fast, again. But they remain. The light dances off of them as cars race past, going to work, school, somewhere, anywhere that’s not here. The flashing blue lights cause a ringing in my ears, and they remind me of you. The puddles glint blue, much like your eyes looked, cloudy with pain on that last day.
I walk fast, past faces unknown but I wish to know them. I wish I could walk up to strangers, ask them how they are, and hug them if they are feeling sad. But this is not common practice – we are inches away from a broken heart, or a blackened soul but we brighten the edges by cheery laughs and forced conversation – and then move on, away, forgetting.
When I held you, you told me ‘No one breaks my heart.’ and I swear I had never seen you look so serious in all the time I’d known you. I laughed it off, but I think maybe you were right.
I’m tangled in your wires, tripping over strings and you’re the puppeteer behind the curtain. I can’t quite escape the ghosts from my past, they weave closer and tighter, knotting away. When you try to run away from yourself, you become lost and end up running back; but what happens when there’s nothing left? I think it’s time to leave.