July 22, 2011 by Lynn Beighley
This isn’t the last time I’ll cry about you, but it’s the last big cry. It’s the last cry that sends me to the bathroom, locking myself in for too long, claiming I have stomach trouble. It’s the last cry that leaves me splashing my face with cold water, forcing myself to smile. This is, I swear, the last time you’ll make me reapply my mascara.
I’m sure I’ll spend a few more tears on you, mostly at night, in the dark, tears seeping into my pillow, the world sleeping, me silently sobbing, wondering why I didn’t matter to you as much as you did to me. Was I not funny? Was I not sexy? What did I ever ask of you? Goddamn you. You don’t deserve me.
Wondering what I did wrong, wondering why you didn’t care.
And I splash my face, I blink at myself in the mirror. I’m flushed, my eyes glisten. I smile at myself. I think about everything except you. I take a deep breath. Your memory emerges and I shut it the fuck down. I scream inside to stop. To stop. To stop.
And then I inhale fresh air, without you in it. This time. No, every time, from now on.