Puzzlement Poem by Amy Nye

Garbled speech through the telephone. Words I never thought I’d hear.

“We need to talk.” Four words. Twelve little letters. A world of hurt behind the feigned mask of vacant politeness. My reply was perfectly modulated. A balance between casualness and calmness. Neither of which I felt.

“Okay. What time works for you? ”

“Does tomorrow at 10 work? ” I struggled to speak. The swelling in my throat was almost unbearable. I managed to say.

“Of course” The relief in your voice was palpable.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.” The click from your receiver told me so many things. All which you had left unsaid.

We had never fit. Like broken pieces to a puzzle. But we were perfect. Everyone said so. I remember the day we met. Snowflakes brushed my face as they shone so bright reflecting the street lamp we were standing under. Your brilliant bright blue eyes met my dirt brown. Your arms made me feel as if I belonged. Somewhere, at least one person cared. I cried myself to sleep that night. I swear I had almost made myself believe. Believe in love. Believe that someone like you could love me.

I cry myself to sleep tonight. A mournful shadow of past memories. I will tomorrow not to come. I pray I won’t live to see the sun rise on another meaningless day. No hope for this forgotten cry. My alarm rings out, screaming bloody murder as the red numbers display on my ugly yellow ceiling. I slap my hand on the snooze button, delaying the inevitable. Prolonging my agony. I fall back into a fitful sleep. Memories surface from beneath the clouds. I see your perfect smile beam out at me. Your laughter rings in my ears, a distant echo from the past. It’s gone now.

You and I were marred perfection. You were so beautiful it hurt. As I fell, I had forgotten my duct-taped heart lying next to me. We were deceitfully, deliriously happy. Together, forever, until the end. I didn’t know my world would end so soon.

She was perfection. She was thousands of times better than me. She entered my confused world, filling my taxed mind with turmoil and doubts. You swore I was wrong. You told me you loved me but I saw through your lies. She was stealing you slowly. Bit by bit. I pushed you away all the while wanting you to be here. You called me every day telling me the same lies over and over again. You said I was everything. But I was nothing. She was so much more. You told me you loved me, but she was so much more worthy of your love. Finally after weeks of your lies, you stopped calling. I tried to convince myself of my relief, but you had forgotten about me over your infatuation for her. For a week you hadn’t called. And now you decided to call yesterday. You’ve decided to abandon me. To leave me for her. You want me to burn the photos. You want to get me and my memories out of your godforsaken life.

I walk out of my apartment. I count the steps I take, but lose track after 1,554. I hate walking through the city. I can feel the stares of judgmental cynics on my back. I can feel their hatred for me, just like everybody else. But I begin to question if I even care. The irony of everything makes me laugh. An insane, hysterical laugh that doesn’t seem to come from me. We’re meeting where we first met. But now we meet to leave. The leaves are black and sullen. They lay drowned on the bare pavement. What crime did they commit? The snowflakes gather on me. Jostling for a spot on my shoulders. They collide with each other as one drops off and the other takes it’s place. I walk alone surrounded by people. They walk about, meandering meaninglessly. They aren’t living. They are merely surviving. Just as I am.

I arrive where I am meant to be. You’re waiting for me. I suppress my sarcastic laughter. You want this to be over. You want to leave me and move on as fast as humanly possible. I don’t care. Go ahead you know I won’t miss you. But that’s a lie.

You embrace my stiff form. You torture me as much as possible. I hate you. I hate your blue eyes that are always smiling. You smile all the time. Every moment. Your self-satisfied smirk shines through my pain. I sit across from you. My arms and legs are crossed against me, forming a barrier between reality and romance. You begin your monologue. You repeat the same old lies. I don’t listen anymore. I stare across the street at the bus that’s leaving the station. On the back of the bus there is a billboard that tells us not to drink and drive. I see the driver drinking out of a can, stumbling out of a convenience store. Hypocrite. But so am I. I turn my attention back on your animated voice. I start to cry inside but I do not let my facade of apathy slip. My mind slips back to when you and I were blissfully alone together. I remember when your voice was the sweetest thing I knew. Now it sounds like a clanging cymbal ringing in my ears. It gnaws at my soul. I hear it every moment of my wretched life. I am unable to escape. You hold the key to the lock, but you will not give it to me. You keep me captive for your own entertainment.

I hear the symphony swell, surging up on the waves of your misery. I hear your fingers stop their incessant drumming on the small, round coffee table. The climax is coming. Against my will, I hold my breath. I wait for the moment to pass. But something is off. As I glance up at you, I see your eyes are broken. There’s a sense of sorrow beneath them that shatters me.

You stare at me. Holding my gaze captive. I watch your mouth form the words you do not wish to speak. Against your will, they come out.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand not knowing. I can’t stand constantly being wrong. I’m losing myself and I’m losing my mind. And you just sit there and you don’t even care. I’m sorry.” As your chair screeches back, you stand up and look at me. I don’t look up. I can’t bear to see your condemning glare.

As I watch you leave, I feel the little bit of myself that remains, get blown to chaff that flies away with the wind. I feel a loss that I can’t place. I never loved you. I never needed you. I was better off alone. I watch your footsteps turn to lead in a different direction. I hear myself break my own heart into a million shattered pieces. As I stare at your hunched back I whisper to you words you’ll never hear again.
“I love you.” Three words. Eight letters. A world of hurt behind the vacant mask of feigned emotion.