Somehow, I’d forgotten
all my memories,
or was pretending to
like a zombie
milling about
in search
of sustenance.
So, after the funeral,
I ran.
After all the history sharing,
and others’ merry making,
I ran.
I tried to be nonchalant,
missing a few steps
on the way
down the stairs
and out the door.
It was this weird, clean
break inside me.
And how could I say it—
it was one I was happy for.
Since all my memories
weren’t roses and candy,
since more than a person had died
and my own heart
was still being stitched up
in fresh bandages,
I just wanted solace,
to turn up the stereo
in my car,
to drive through the mountains,
clouds breaking—
tossing my rings
out the window
unmarried
to the Me Too
I left behind.
For Shay’s Word Garden Word List—Save Yourself
NPM Day 17
