Letters Between Sundays

I wasn’t supposed to go see him.
I knew it was wrong.
But I half-shaved my legs, put on my coat, and ran out the door.
I drove an hour to see him, only to find him in the mood for something else.

When I pulled in his driveway, I put the car in reverse and just sat there,
debating if I should listen to my heart or my head.
He comes running out, curls covering his face,
his nerdy glasses falling off his nose.
From then on it was a blur,
like I stepped into a new dimension, somewhere I wasn’t allowed.

Flashbacks from when we were young ran through my head.
He hugs me, remembering his fingers in between my sick body ribs,
him clenching his jaw so tight I can feel it on my head,
me hearing his heartbeat go faster when I rub my hands on his back.
Back then I felt safe in your arms,
like you wouldn’t let me be shattered.

Now I felt like a ghost in your arms,
and a stranger in your presence.
I was a fool at 18,
thinking you were the love of my life.
The first person to see who I was and care for me and provide.
We were just lonely teenagers looking to be adults,
not understanding the complicatedness that came with playing house.

I looked up to you with sparkly blue eyes.
I was your world,
and you burned down my forests.
I came back hoping to find the same true love we had back then,
but every kiss and every scream of that night was empty.
Your lips had no life,
and our conversations were dead, no life to them — just lust.

Our time was up.
The last petal of our flower fell to the ground,
and now there’s no more light in our eyes.
I waited and waited and waited,
and you never reached back out.
I see your true heart, and mine is broken again.

That night I was awake with my thoughts
until the sun beamed through your curtains,
your alarm went off,
and you got up to go to work.

You let me lay there like I was your pillow,
thinking I would be there for you to lay your head on every night.
I screamed for attention,
and you didn’t blink an eye.
You have self-control,
but what good does that do when there’s no desire for who I am on the inside?

We both used each other,
but for different reasons.
Mine just came with a chain wrapped around my ankle called intimacy.
You got what you wanted and brushed me under the rug like a secret.
You kissed me goodbye and walked me to my car,
and there it was — us playing house again like we were a married couple.

I stepped back into my dimension and had to face consequences.
I was a pit stop on your figure-eight track,
fueling you up with chemicals and rotating your tires.
I fell into darkness,
thinking you were supposed to catch me in reality;
you were the darkness,
making me blind from the light that the Lord was providing.