When I lived in Saint Louis, I had two relationships – one that set a high standard for relationships and another that plunged the depths of low. The high standard relationship was everything I could ask for – until it ended. I took the end pretty hard. I lost about 10 pounds instantly and didn’t really function much day-to-day after the semester ended. Despite the difficulty I was going through attempting to adjust to the loss, I still vacillated between wanting to randomly see him and not wanting a visual reminder of that which I felt I had lost.
One day, a while after the breakup, I saw him. Based on the myriad emotions I felt at that moment, I decided to write what I thought would be a poem. However, there were no rhyming words at the end of the stanzas. It felt like poetry when I wrote it and still feels like poetry when I read it now.
If I See Him
If I see him, all that was good in my life is forgotten, replaced by the deep well of regret that I wasn’t The One.
If I see him, my heart’s staccato rhythm is for several moments erratically offbeat.
If I see him, my heart relocates from its usual spot off-center of my chest and instead is on the ground.
If I see him, despite my better judgment, I want to walk into his arms and have him hold me.
If I see him, I instantly wonder if I look good or if I should have worn a different outfit that day.
If I see him, I always want to place my hand on his back, underneath his shirt so that I can feel his body heat radiating on my hand.
If I see him, I struggle to keep the emotions of my heart from flying out through my eyes.
Fortunately, I don’t see him.