Death of a relationship | Continue

If I should be brought before you

And am asked to skim the trees

To recollect my fondest thoughts

Amid a wasteland of memories

I should dig deep the shallow trenches

I will seek out every eye

For my past bear’s strong resemblance

To the ones I stand before

And I will know a soft resistance

As I push off from the shore

I wonder how all of this will come to pass; How you and I will remember one another. I don’t sit with this for very long, for I know where my mind often leads me. I do not drift to positive places. Instead, my mind seems to embrace the negative and haunting spaces. But I must think of this, of you and I and our past. My past, as it were, I must pull back the shade and confront what is revealed.

You were gentle with me; virtually every memory tells me this was your way. You knew that anger would cause me running, and your job was to have me stay. And at times you were overbearing, you wanted for yourself my good health. You wished my mind would pause, and you could rest, you cared much and sometimes in the wrong way. But I forgive your co-dependence, your expectations, and your disappointment. I overlook these things because I, too, am full of error, and I am not here to blame.

I am here to recover the past, not for keeping but to learn. What was it about our relationship that you wanted to hold onto? What was it about me that you seemed so keen on keeping close? I have asked myself this question, and sometimes it makes perfect sense. At times, I was honest and reliable, but others I was a complete waste of effort. Who holds onto the daily garbage? One who is sick themselves I believe. I look back with compassion, not wishing to change you, and this is not meant to enlighten you. This I doubt the entirety of you will ever read.

I can remember when you embraced me, and my embrace was a lie. I heard your heart pouring into my chest, its crimson waves exposing vast emptiness inside of me. I felt you sometimes, and other times you left me frozen, or I went you frozen.  We were just friends; we were lovers, we were enemies. All of it was real, though. You could not carry me, I could not carry you, but I was stronger sometimes. You were a champion, my champion. You failed me and used me selfishly. You were so many people all at once; it is no wonder I completely lost you at times.

I sit in Washington Square Park and listen. Where does it begin? The moment when we became more than ourselves? When did you decide to become a hero? You are not so unique, darling, and neither am I. What a beautiful show we put on, at times. And what of the other times? What a mess we made. We did, indeed, use one another often but I abused you more than you insulted me. That is just who you are, as a whole, I think. My selfishness knew no bounds, and yet it was suffocated time and again. Finally, some time ago, I fell so short of breath that our relationship had to change. I knew it, and I didn’t know what to do except finding a new beginning. I had no way of knowing what this would mean though it was clear that a permanent departure had to be made.

The beginning was beautiful. Leaves fell hard in those first few days, and for some those leaves are still rocks on their backs. But it was no longer excuse enough for me to hide behind. I loved them dearly, I indeed did. I love them today differently because I am different, and they are different. They are whole but hard to see. I send out eulogies because I was not always there when the moment surprised and seemed to ambush us. I am here now; I am here for the ones who wish to hear me.

I still seem to lose you at times, even though I feel we have been doing everything well. We outgrow each other’s usefulness; we no longer need one another. When you no longer need something, it becomes a weight around your ankle unless you part ways while still feathers. In the beginning, it feels wrong; it angers me to part ways. But it is the best for both of us and the best way for the whole of us.

Sometimes I glance out the window and see your birds singing. Other times I turn my back to you, wishing you would at once turn away from me. I love you, I have forgotten you, and I hope to love you. Before the earth, before the lovers and the users and the apathetic bystanders, I hope I give you something you no longer wish to use or burn. I hope you see me and know that the past is real, but it is gone and only alive in your mind. I know it was real, but this moment is real as well. I hope you see the power of this moment, and I hope you forget me and move on if that is what you must do.

You have nothing to say to me, and I nothing to say to you, for the most part. One day I will sit down and tell you what it all means, but today you must work on it yourself, for it is your world that you must save from forever wilting. You do not live for me, I do not live for you, but we live for a purpose higher than both of us. I cannot define yours, and I know you cannot give me the relief I once sought. I appreciate you for who you are, and do not want you to change your colors to draw me closer. If I speak a foreign tongue to you and you wish to retreat, I do not blame you. Those who are meant to be in my life will be close; the others will become useful by becoming more like themselves.

I love you, I hope to love you, and I have forgotten and forgiven you. Do not fear whatever lay in front of us, it is meant to be there, and we no longer need to embellish who we are. Here is the death of our relationship, darling.