The first thing we taught each other, was how to close doors in the other one’s face. How to stack the bricks just so, mortar the cracks, keep the lines level. We built walls out of words. Pressed the letters into each other until the house buzzed with noise and it felt as though the walls were full of bees.
We learn the strings to pull. The chords that yanked out the anger, snapped the calmness. At night, when the neighbours slept we would hammer out brittle songs on instruments we’d forgotten how to tune.
One night I broke you. Left your pieces on the living room floor and watched you stare at the splinters I’d made of your hands, your face, your heart. When you reached for me, I couldn’t remember where I’d put the key to my door.
Once, I wore your clothes,
tried to make them fit my skin
better than my own.
When I started writing this piece, I fully intended it to be a work of fiction, but I think a little bit of reality worked its way in there.Thank you to Kansensakura and the wonderful dVerse Poets Pub for the prompt. If you haven’t heard of their fantastic Haibun poetry nights then you have to click the logo above and check out the rest of their amazing poets, writing amazing poetry.