You say to me that you are leaving.
Your bags are packed, your coat is on.
You expect tears but none come. My eyes are dry.
You are not the first to leave, and you certainly will not be the last. People leave all the time. Why should you be any different?
You scream. Tell me to fight, but no words come out.
You tell me that I’ve gone cold like a marble statue. It’s like I feel nothing, like I am a black hole inside.
But the truth is, I do feel. I feel too deeply like it gets blocked like a cork in a bottle.
Maybe one day it’ll explode like champagne at a wedding.
I feel but I don’t want to.
As always I thought you were different but you’re the same as the rest. You’ll leave.
So why try? Why cry? Tears won’t stop you from walking out that door. Begging won’t stop you from walking out that front door.
And yet somehow, it’s my silence that stops you. My resignation at the sight of your bags by the door.
That is what stops you.
You put your packs away and take off your coat. And as you pull me into your arms, whispering words I can’t hear over the pounding of my heart, I finally cry.
Because you stayed.