She left me again. This time for the last. This time was harder than ever before. Maybe because I knew that, just as she knew, it had been time for too long.
I threw out her bottles of shampoo, face cleanser and body scrub. I quit drinking for three days. Made new plans for myself. I promised to learn Italian by February. I’ve returned to the gym. I will be made of carved wood.
I know what failure taste like. I will swallow it down till I taste freedom again.
I got a fresh haircut. Went to see my mom. And watered the lawn.
The music that plays is sad and tricked me into a drink. One lead to two and I lost count at five, beers not included. The bed sheets are clean. And my heart is hopeful.
She is out there. She is already learning Italian, night school. We were to go on holiday together in the spring. I imagine she will go on without me. Perhaps she’ll meet someone abroad. Perhaps there is already someone to take my place. We all deserve the happiness we create for ourselves.
The night is warm. And the moon is working up to being its fullest for the month.
A full moon used to inspire hopefulness. Now it only reminds me of perfect nights that will no longer be mine.
The kitchen counter is always easy to find. On the counter, always my bottle. My blindfold. My sad song. And I pour it down to forget that she will never be in my bed, in my arms or at my lips. And I pray to God that he keeps her from my dreams.