I don’t know how to turn this heartbreak into words. I don’t know how to turn it into something tangible, something I can write down and tear into pieces. I don’t know how I ever was able to before. I always thought that heartbreak would get easier, but it doesn’t. And I knew it was coming too, I saw it from a mile away.
Because it was in the way we started, wrong, toxic, rotten, poison, something to get rid of before it could spread. But it was still human, because humans are not perfect and humans fuck up and sometimes badly. And we were still human. And we were weak, too fragile, too delicate, too vulnerable to be on our own.
(And he made me feel human, he reminded me what it felt like to feel. To care. To love. To hope. Above all, gods and goddesses I don’t believe in, he made me remember how to hope.)
So maybe still wrong and toxic and rotten and poison but still human. Still hopeful. But still so wrong, and we hated ourselves and we wanted to hide away from the world. Because we did not deserve to be in the garden that was life when we had just thrown trash in it.
But we turned it into something beautiful, something worth looking at, caring about, loving. Our beginning was transformed into something we wanted to keep if only because around its hated core was something we both wanted.
But no matter how beautiful the growth, the stem, the leaves, the blooming flowers – the seed was rotten. And we both knew it. But we wanted to breathe the air and reach for the sky and together feel the rain on our skin as we grew ever more brightly. But it wasn’t enough. And time passed and the rot made itself known and it spread.
The flowers died, but we rallied and if we could just reach a little further, a little longer, we could make it. But no, the leaves died and so did the stem, and we were left with nothing but the dead pieces of our growth. Everything we had nurtured was now nothing but shriveled, wilted remains lying the dirt. And our rotten seed was exposed for the world to see.
And so we threw all of it away, and it was no more. But our wilted flowers were already lost in the dirt, and maybe the results of our beginning can be a good thing for that garden. But not for us. Never for us.
Our rotten seed is gone but always remembered. And that brief moment of beauty of life too will be remembered. But only fleetingly. Because it was not long enough in the sun to imprint the warmth of it onto our skin.
Because it was not long enough that I am even sure it happened. Because I am weak, too fragile, too delicate, too vulnerable to be on my own. With you, I was wrong, toxic, rotten, poison, but with you, and that made all the difference.
But now I am once again on my own. And I need to search for a new beginning. But not yet. Because I do not have it within me to grow any time soon.
Because I loved you. As rotten as we were, I loved you. And I thought you loved me too, and you promised that we could make it. And I believed in you. But you threw me away as if our development meant nothing you. And maybe it’s better off this way, our rotten seed no longer polluting the garden. But that does not mean I don’t miss you all the same.