I wrote poems about you. Stood on open mic stages and belted them out. Cried over glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon for you. Cranked up Toni Braxton and sang in an off-key tone about you. There were times when I knew that I would lift this entire planet and bear it on my back…for you.

It’s funny how time plants a vacuum between what was and what is.

When my sister would ask how I could have such immense feelings for someone I barely knew, I couldn’t even sum up the infinitesimal thoughts about you dancing through my brain. Those thoughts danced the Tarantella, a frenzy of non-stop memories about us.

You just had that something. That je ne sais quoi. So, I could only tell my sister that the heart does not always expand or contract in relation to time. Sometimes we love people we’ve known for days and barely recognize people we’ve known for years.

I did not trust time to fix this.

You put the onus on me to end it. Isn’t that how it always works? The person who invested more of themselves has to eventually salvage all the sense they have left and walk away. The other person can stay or leave yet they never feel affected. So, when I ended it for the fifth and final time, I felt both relieved and void. I experienced the peace of mind that comes with screwing one’s head on straight and the drain of walking away from something that you wanted so desperately to work out.

That was the moment time began to put a bandage on my heart.

Days transformed into a month and one month turned into two. And, each day meant that I could move on and detach myself from a situation that was defunct from the start.

But, time does not do all of the work.

When you first contacted me after our demise, I cursed every God that I ever knew. I broke at the seams. I roared on social media. Because, I was finally happy. Again. And, here you come unannounced trying to stomp all over that.

But, time is a gradual yet inevitable healer.

Now you and I are the kind of people who overlook one another’s G-chats, noticing only hours later that the other person tried to get a hold of us. I have your number, but it no longer feels like poison seeping through my contacts list. It is just there. Nothing compels me to use it. Somewhere along the line I accepted that you are wonderful — but we just can’t be in each other’s lives. Our lives continued on the paths they were always meant to navigate. Away from each other.

We survived. Or, rather, I survived.

It isn’t always easy to trust time or believe that it will patch the scars of a shattered heart. But, it is always moving. Always working. Always adding to our present and erasing the blemishes of the past. It is always exerting its wonders.
It’s funny how time plants a vacuum between what was and what is.

Tyece