The Nineteenth One.

Afternoon,

Subheading: Post-relationship avoidances. 

Whenever a relationship ends, whether it is romantic or platonic, I feel like we all have the habit of taking stock of the things that remind us of that person; places we went together, songs, inside jokes, etc. Sometimes we choose to revisit these things as a way to remember and appreciate, and sometimes we say, "Well, this thing is ruined for me now". Most of us have a handful of both, I am guessing. Sometimes time can shift these items from one column to another as we heal, or even erase the connection all together. Other times, the things that sting the most just always seem to sting. 

I decided to write out some things in the form of a list, and ended up writing a strange/cathartic sort of poem instead. I suppose I am sharing so people know they aren't alone in this habit of looking at something seemingly arbitrary, like a hamburger, and bursting into tears. Love is really fucking weird like that, the way it seeps into everything. It's annoying, and as the above photo suggests, enormously beautiful. 

It Once Was My Life: All The Things You (didn't actually) Ruin.

Van Morrison,

showers, 

Mediterranean food;

rope,

guitars, 

and tiny coffee spoons.

Blue eyes,

juicing lemons,

my 34th birthday;

breath on my neck,

anticipation,

and the rain. 

Skylights,

Kiefer Sutherland,

sunlight peeking through leaves; 

hoping,

soy candles, 

and even Listerine. 

Things you ruined for me.

Things you ruined for me.

Shea body wash,

clothespins,

Phantom of the Opera; 

any chance of planning,

or staying,

or having an agenda. 

Purple sheets,

books, 

piecing together puzzles,

kissing,

retreating,

summer yielding to autumn.

Clouds,

Leonard Cohen,

wooden floors creaking;

Wednesday nights, 

unyielding silence,

any hope of pleasant dreaming. 
Things you ruined for me.
Things you ruined for me. 

As usual, I hope you enjoyed this stuff, and come back for more things.