Nothing Left to Say

 “You touched my heart And were so giving Spare it so free You threw me in it I fell so deep I could not see my life Without you in it And all I could do for you I should’ve done before (now) In tears we stand here There’s nothing left to say.” Mint Condition

There are over 200,000 words in the English dictionary, so it’s safe to say with that many words I may live to regret a few. When a relationship ends we definitely exhaust our vocabulary to understand it, explain it, rationalize it, and then move on from it. Even worse we expand on the inarticulate words that make us more animal than human. Spinning in circles, the rotation makes us nauseous, until there’s nothing left to say.

You will always wonder if you used the right ones not only to express yourself, but to make sure that the other party can identify with your feelings. That in essence is all you’re left with, a rolling ball of tattered emotions: Rags that once again must become silken robes if you’re ever going to move on to the next one.

Reversing tongue to teeth, I’d take back the stories that made him seem less than my idea of great to others. Once released it’s inevitable that the words will live durably in the minds of faithful listeners, making me own them more than sorrowful sobs desperate for relief. For a few endless months, he was the sunlight in which I perpetually basked. And I was happy. I can try in every language I know to make others understand what he meant to me, but I’ve already shuttered their ears with my side of sorry; so blocked they can’t hear the good hidden in the spaces, masked behind the periods, and lounging in the commas.

I know what I’m not supposed to say: I’m not supposed to say I miss him. I’m not supposed to say that seeing him again, for whatever shallow reason he concocted, reopened the hand stitched seam over a mending heart. That hearing his voice reminded me of the countless stories he told to wake me up and entertain a constantly fluxing mind. But all I can think is that he’s a really great guy, and I hope the next girl appreciates him.

I’m not supposed to romanticize the past and change the ending… but I’d be a fool to make light of what all this meant. Of what it all means. The haunting, melancholy, agony of an Adele song timbered with the sweet notes of the end to a true love story… I really have to stop listening to her.

Of the thousand entries that I’ve written or thought of or dreamed of, I can only say good bye with the lyrics of a song. “This will be my last confession, I love you never felt like any blessing. I was a heavy heart to carry.” Sometimes 200,000 words just aren’t enough to make it last.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Tenisha Jones
    Oct 26, 2011 @ 23:53:55

    NICE

    Reply

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