Jackie Potter

I am thinking about the last time everything around me crumbled. I took a match to the oldest photographs I had; the old flower, and the notes. The leter burned, too. It was all flame then ash. I set fire on the whole room, unintentionally of course, but I didn't have any objective to put it out.

My coco is hot. My theory was correct.
Even hot chocolate does not make the missing you go away.

I hate this weather.
I think of you all the time.
Before, I desired for winter to come.
Now, unaccompanied and shivering, I want this season to pass.

I am still writing about you.
I should stop this.

The neighbors are so noisy.
They speak loud in an unclear tone. I hate them.

I pretend I'm not afraid, but I am shaking.
He must notice because he closed his hand over mine.
He wants me to feel protected, but from what?
He does not know the extent of my brokenness,
And I intend for him to never find out.

I play this role well. I am so damaged.
He is going to fix me, or at least, he is going to try.
He is uncomfortable so he tells a joke.
This should be funny, but it's not.
I feel like throwing up.

It starts to rain and the snow is finally starting to melt.
The bare ground patches through the snow in the lawn out back.
He touches me and I try not to shiver him away.
My smile is forced and he looks nervous.

I am standing at the window, cold and nearly crying.
I see his reflection through the wet glass.
The water dripping down the window pane makes rippling images over his flesh.
He is beautiful in this moment.

It is so quiet that I can hear his heartbeat.
I wonder if he can hear mine,
But I laugh privately at the thought.
Heartbeats come from hearts, and I don't have one.
Begging myself to feel something, but I don't.
I feel nothing.

Disgusted in myself, I walk to the door.
I feel as if I'm about to collapse at any moment.
I grab a chair and put my head into my palm and stare out the glass window.

I glance at him. He is acting like this is normal.
It's not, but I allow it.
There is something so innocent in his eyes.
I look at him one last time.
His eyes are pleading with me, but for what?
I will never forgive him.

I feel tears swelling in my eyes, as I fumble for the door latch.
I push it open, and I step into the rain.
I feel so empty.
I stand in the drizzle and lower my head in farewell.
I am not fixed.

This is the loneliest day of my life.
your pictures don't do anything but stare.
I want to inhale you; keep you in my lungs.
Exhale, inhale again. Too fast, suddenly, I can not breath.
Your pictures don't do anything but burn.

I lit a fire over what our life together used to be.

This is the loneliest day of my life.

Today I had an emotional breakdown.
I am not motivated to do anything at all.
But write this about you, hoping that somehow
thinking about you will make you magically appear.
A jumble of letters and punctuation marks.
To you, it all means nothing.
That's all I will ever be to you.

Picture of you and I dressed appealing and very in love.
I can remember that very moment.
FLASH. My jaw hurt, but it was a real smile.
I never faked a smile while with you.

Every thread.
Every moment I am with you.
Wind me up.
Let me go.
Unravel me.
Rip me to shreds.

Every perfectly phrased paragraph.
Every punctuation.
Every word.
You lied to me the same way you talked to me.
Closely. Without reason. Without shame.

We abandon caution as we spilled out secrets
And shared or thoughts on sunny days.

Stress

By Jackie Potter
Rochester High School, Grade 10

Oh you poor, poor soul. You have to make a decision; what a shame. It’s not so easy is it? But when has anything ever been simple? You just expect the answer to fall right into your lap. Whoops. I guess you were wrong there.

Funny. I don’t recall you ever being wrong.