at one i chained and locked myself inside my closet, embraced every soft and hard fabric i could get. at two i wiped the tears spilling like a river, gushing, flowing, destroying the walls i built. at three i confessed to never call or text you again. at three i deleted your number on my cell. at three i deleted your pictures on my roll. at three i saw your shirt and hugged it close. at three i wore your shirt and cried a little more. at four i confessed i miss you. at five i hoped you come knocking at my door.
at six and seven i fell asleep. at eight i withered like a seedling on a barren field. at nine i tried to remember what it feels to trace your lips with mine. but at nine i saw the signs, in my dream, vivid, engulfed by a blinding light. i saw myself inside a glass filled with icy waters to the brim, but you never came to sledgehammer me free as the light deemed. at nine i woke up with a start, the night was cold and dark. at ten the horrors came unbidden, unbowed. i removed your shirt, wet with sweat against my skin. at eleven i knew you’re just another face in the crowd.
when the clock dinged at twelve i cried no more, i saw myself free and you’re gone for sure. at twelve i opened the closet door, out i went and unchained my spirit from the floor.
J. G. Elas is a writer and online content contributor and has authored an autobiographical book that narrates the life of an INFP in his early twenties. He blogs based on experiences and would highlight the fragility and tentativeness of some of the relationships he’s been in to.