I can’t get you out of my head. Those last few days, the things I said and the things I meant. Angry words that passed through my lips–when I meant every word and tone and note. After all, I had rehearsed them so many times in the dark. And I’d delivered them more times than I would have ever wished. And I only hoped that maybe this time, you had finally heard.

Now, it’s over. It’s all silent between us, and there’s straight out just nothing more to be said. So, here I have been, these last few days, mulling those final words to you, my angst-ridden adieu, over and over, while hoping you are doing the same. Although, I know you are not.

And I can’t break free from the mess I washed my hands of. It still feels unfinished. Unsaid. Undone. But I know I can’t go back and make it right again. Because with some things, the only way to make it right is to walk away.

But you’re still here, tromping around in my head, like an elephant herd, drowning out any life that might sprout in its wake.

So, now, here I am in this odd space between. Everything thing that can be said, has been said. Everything that can be done, has been done. And, somehow, it’s still not enough.


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