Severance

I'm suddenly very aware that his picture is still in my wallet. I've been meaning to pull it out, but just can't seem to. I thought when I went to his place (finally) to pick up my things, I'd have closure. There's such reluctance to end the chapter and close the book. The very act of removing his photo would seem an irreversible demise - I just can't. Not right now. The very thought is like embracing a giant cactus.

And how ridiculous this sentiment is, when he never carried a picture of me in his wallet.

We were a piece of parchment paper. We kept tearing at it, down the middle, against the grain, so it was never a clean break. We'd see the damage, panic, and tape over it. From a distance everything seemed fine. Even up close, as we touched it tenderly, it felt nice and smooth. But everything was not fine. And we were constantly restless.

And now, with every day that passes, the tear grows and the gap widens.

Perhaps one day we won't remember that we were once joint.