I heard all you said and I love you to death. I heard all you said don’t say anything.

by WildChild

In the weeks leading up to the departure, your eyes became glazed, mind cluttered, and health, your health, dwindling.   It has been a month since I carefully wrapped those plain white Ikea dishes and mugs in bubble wrap; the wrap, boxes and tape that I acquired for you since you had been so busy, so overwhelmed.  Artwork removed from the walls, my photography tucked away in your boxes.

Once every sign of you was peeled away, I drove you to Georgia to drop off your much-loved and energetic four-legged friend.  Leaving her with your parents, we then spent two deliriously sad days and nights together strolling through the streets of Savannah.  Playing which building would you want to live in, in another life?  Myself choosing the ones with “smoke stains”,  as you would have guessed by my poor damaged taste.  Of course you were fond of the lavish historical porches and southern charm.


We laughed at the “fuck hipsterz” graffiti trashcan, possibly the next Banksy in this ever complicated and bending art world, in the alleyways.


Continued to stomp around without care through cemeteries, absolutely drenched and hysterical happy.  All this knowing the bitter ending being the last goodbye by bringing you to your empty apartment at dawn.


This goodbye was a kiss on head, that burned a mark.  I slipped away just as I saw you begin to cry.  I had to swiftly move to the car for fear my legs would turn to putty.  All I could do was move.


I think I chose to drive you that day instead of ring a cab so I could test myself.  How far can I go before I go too far?  Before I break down, cry, and completely and utterly lose it.  I did not lose it.  Not until, well not until you came back.