Your hand
was still wrapped around my throat, but I didn’t realize it. I went about my
day with the sun on my hair and whiskey in my veins. I rode through swamps and
past dive bars, and I said I had never been happier. I said I didn’t need
anything but someone else’s fingers threading through mine and the rock of a
boat on a beautiful day.
But still
it wasn’t over. I didn’t know until I kissed someone else on a beach at
midnight and cried the whole next day. I could see your face, the expression of
concern in your warm brown eyes, and I would have given it all back. I would
have cut my hair, dug in my nails, and begged you to take me away.
Except, a
year rests between us and I wouldn’t know what to say anymore. You hurt me, you
scooped out my eyes and threw them out, and I couldn’t string a sentence
together. I tried to write it down, again and again, but nothing made it feel
okay. Nothing pushed the pain towards you.
I poured
myself out two years ago, and I still lie as a puddle at your feet. I whistle
and I scream and I wait to be whole again. Please, please, please
Don’t come
back to me.