When your body sinks into sheets and comforter at the end of a day, in the same bed where we used to lie inseparable, our bodies entangled in the sheets, our limbs entwined together,
do you remember the feel of me?
Does the mattress still have the tiniest groove where my body made its home, night in and night out, or has the memory of me been erased by the addition of other bodies in our bed…. your bed.
In my effort to let go of the pain of you, I have thrown myself into life. I have convinced myself and others that I am handling this well.
I’ve effectively pushed my pain into a box, closed the lid, and shoved it into the back of mind where I’ll rarely come across it.
Occasionally though, in daily life, in my search for something else, ill come across the box accidentally. At this point it becomes quite apparent that I am not over you. Maybe I never will be.
Maybe I need to open the box, immerse myself in the pain, let myself feel every heartache in an effort to allow myself to finally move on.
I don’t want to feel like this anymore- Always inches away from heartache.
My mind recoils at the thought of even trying it again with someone else. It’s the revulsion you feel after seeing the bottle of vodka in the morning after a night of drinking – where your stomach clenches at the sight, and you promise yourself you will never partake again.
There’s only so many times you can be burned before you just avoid the fire entirely.