The Blood & The Bones

I know I need to write about what you said.  I know I need to heal the only way I know how.  If I can empty this from me then maybe I can let you go.  But, I don’t know how.

It’s like I swallowed a boulder and it sits there, in the back of my throat, hovering just above where my heart was before you took it with you.  There is an emptiness below the heaviness and I don’t know what to do with either. I’d carve them out and throw them away if I could.

I’ve written many times about how pain feels like rocks in your chest.  That’s the way it is for me.  I carry it there.  Heavy with the weight of the things I want to cry, on my knees, and tell you.  I never will.  You made it clear.  You just don’t care.

You said you didn’t want to tell yourself no. You said if it fell in your lap, you’d do it.  You’d feel no remorse when you looked at me after. That you wanted to be with them, her, whoever.  What you didn’t say but, what you didn’t even know you meant was that me, I alone, was just not enough.  You said you wanted to but you didn’t.  But you wanted to.  You stopped yourself but you didn’t want to..  You wanted to be with her or anyone the way I thought you only wanted me.  That’s a dagger that keeps on digging.. sinking deeper into the pit of me. The nothing of me that I have become wading through the truth.

I always loved the fact that you were honest with only me but when you were, the truth became my burden to bear and no longer yours.  And so the weight increased, heavier, pressing down upon me.  Carrying it with me so that I could love you. I just wanted to love you.

And you said that I was only ever ‘the one’ when I was there.  Your words exactly were ‘when you were here, you were the one’ and that took every memory of the heat of your hand on my skin, the laughter, the music loud and the wind in our hair, the times you said I love you.  Every time I looked at you and thought thank you universe for sending me this man who loved me in ways I never believed I deserved.  All of that is gone.  Well, it’s not gone.  It’s sits there too.  I don’t know what to do with it, S.  Because I can’t let it go but I no longer know what to believe was real.

Why was I not enough? I guess the better question is, why won’t you let me be enough?  Is the potential of what they give you so wonderful that it becomes more important than what is definite with me?  Happiness.  That was a definite.  It had always been. You knew that.  That was the only definite we ever had.

I can’t feel you anymore the way I always could.  I had to shut that part of me off to you.  You didn’t want it.  You said you didn’t want my love.  What did you want?  I don’t think I’ll ever know.

You’ll never read this.  You’ll never know the crushing weight of what you did.  You’ll never know that you destroyed me.  You said you were telling me now so that you wouldn’t but it was already done.

It was already done.

And I search myself and wonder what I did so wrong and now I know that the only thing I ever did wrong, when it came to us, was believing you.

LL~