Break Up

Tom and I? We’ve come a long way.
We go way back.
My oldest friend.
The only one who has known me longer than my parents have known me, is Tom.

Tom.
My worst enemy.
He’ll make me dive deeper, jump higher.
He makes me laugh, makes me proud.
Made me cry.
I can count endless memories where laughter turned into misery and tears dried while we giggled.

We would fight.
Like cats and dogs even though we were two peas in a pod.
But I loved you Tom.
I used to love you.
Lately our waterfalls have kept going and our rivers never dried when you offered me the sun.
After giving me all the light in your body I eventually said no.

Let’s break up.
Let’s break up, Tom.

Sit down at the big peoples table at Christmas by yourself. I’ve moved down to the kids corner where I can take things slow again.
Where people take care of you. Hold you, not push you. Stroke you when you are in pain, not shush you and tell you: ‘Come on, it’s just a little wear and tear.’

It was a wound Tom. They all were.
Let’s break up Tom.

There were times I took your warmth and hugged the sun.
Days where the wounds were merely there.
Bruises faded.
Tears held back.
And smiles would fill our eyes.

We’ve made memories built from the ground.
Thoughts labeled with joy and hope.
We built roads together where we could skip rope.

There were careless days, I never doubted that.
But those lay way back in the past.

So let’s save those stories in which the sun overshadowed the gray clouds.
Let’s remember the days without frowns.
The days smeared with laughter and surprise.
When the darkness became a starry night.
Or our trips to summers in which the rain felt like a calming shower of bliss.

But let’s break up Tom.
Before your wounds outweigh my sunrise.