“They are just letters,” I told myself.

But my heart didn’t really believe it.

Because how could lines and curves

placed together in one familiar sequence

still cause my chest to tighten?

How could they make my face flush with heat

and my brain pound between my ears?

 

“Just letters,” I said.

Scrambled pieces of the alphabet

learned years ago in rooms smelling

of finger paint and apple juice.

Letters I’ve scribbled a million times and

typed on brightly lit screens in the dark of night.

Letters I’ve arranged to heal old wounds and

explain the tucked away bits of my soul.

 

“Just letters,” I repeated.

Nuts and bolts that I know

like the feel of my fingertips and

the faint age spots that decorate my skin.

And despite my intimacy with these characters

and the life-long bond we shared,

there came a fraction of a second,

where they betrayed me.

 

Where these letters lined up precisely

to re-break my already ruptured heart.

 

Because letters became words.

And words became our undoing.

You dreamt for us out loud—promises you

couldn’t keep and places we’d never see.

Mistakes you admitted too late, with no

intention of fixing. And even with

so many letters, I couldn’t put together

the words that would make you stay.

 

They weren’t just letters.

I finally understood,

they were the end.

 

Relephant:

He Rushes Back to Me. {Poem}

~

Author: Nicole Cameron

Editor: Katarina Tavčar

Photo: Allen Berame/Pixoto