Sometimes my eyes turn black. I feel it. My thoughts turn dark, the self talk in my head goes on loop. I spiral quickly down to a yucky place full of seething and vinegar. Sticky like tar, anger and sadness bounce around in my head.
*
He stands in my bedroom. Surveys, turns and demands a makeover. He is holding his clothes in his hand. One closet has been cleared out. Ready for his shirts that always carry the rugged smell of Old Spice, work and nicotine. We move the furniture around until feng shui or something like it is declared. We fall in a heap.
*
A forgotten compact disc is ripped out of a long forgotten purse on the top shelf of the closet. He snaps it in half and glass like shards spray across the bedroom floor. The silence is unbearable after his car rips out of the driveway.
*
We wander through his house. Picking out the nicest things and leaving the rest to dust and cold. He pushes, tests my buttons and patience. Loads the back of my car with pieces that i don’t want. I am quiet and patient. He needs this, he needs to leave his mark. Over a few days we blend together our things and, as i suspected, are left with only the things we both want.