A few days after the breakup, I'm walking home from school
My hands thrust deep in my coat pockets, my fingers graze something smooth
I pull out the small object, only to be greeted with compacted memories
Infused into potential life, memories of the potential life we could have had
The life that I still saw, while he cut it off, way before premature
The amber oval shines, after weeks spent coddled against my gloves
Hidden from the world it was brought into
He liked to throw acorns, specifically at my bedroom window
When he wanted me to come out and kiss him
He'd handed me this one, to throw at his window
If I ever wanted to kiss him
Would it still work if I tried to use it now?
Its only rough spot is a small circle on the top
Where its little cap had sat
Its only imperfection, revealed after it had been broken
I can't relate. He saw all my imperfections before he broke me
And he didn't tell me what he saw, and why it was wrong
Why I was wrong, why I didn't fit.
Why the pretty, polished exterior
Was not enough to make up for the rough, damaged spot
Previously hidden, now clear on display, to be rubbed the wrong way
I imagine the seed inside the acorn
Would it still grow if it was cut open, if it was broken?
Will I still love, after my heart's been shattered?
I don't think so, I don't want to
If that's how it ends,
I don't want to love again
I usually believe that grief is
simply love persevering, and it is,
but is the joy side of love
Worth the grief side of love?
When it comes,
because it will come.
It comes after all the songs on his playlist are ruined
After the ghost of his scent is still left on your jacket
After you can't have a glass of chocolate milk without seeing his face
After you can't watch a historical drama without hearing his name
After your favorite musical that you went to see with him is now connected to his laugh
After he sits you down at midnight and tells you it's over
After he spent the whole day holding your hand, telling you he loves you
After he lied, when he said he would never let you go
After all that, when all you have left is an acorn in your pocket
My hands thrust deep in my coat pockets, my fingers graze something smooth
I pull out the small object, only to be greeted with compacted memories
Infused into potential life, memories of the potential life we could have had
The life that I still saw, while he cut it off, way before premature
The amber oval shines, after weeks spent coddled against my gloves
Hidden from the world it was brought into
He liked to throw acorns, specifically at my bedroom window
When he wanted me to come out and kiss him
He'd handed me this one, to throw at his window
If I ever wanted to kiss him
Would it still work if I tried to use it now?
Its only rough spot is a small circle on the top
Where its little cap had sat
Its only imperfection, revealed after it had been broken
I can't relate. He saw all my imperfections before he broke me
And he didn't tell me what he saw, and why it was wrong
Why I was wrong, why I didn't fit.
Why the pretty, polished exterior
Was not enough to make up for the rough, damaged spot
Previously hidden, now clear on display, to be rubbed the wrong way
I imagine the seed inside the acorn
Would it still grow if it was cut open, if it was broken?
Will I still love, after my heart's been shattered?
I don't think so, I don't want to
If that's how it ends,
I don't want to love again
I usually believe that grief is
simply love persevering, and it is,
but is the joy side of love
Worth the grief side of love?
When it comes,
because it will come.
It comes after all the songs on his playlist are ruined
After the ghost of his scent is still left on your jacket
After you can't have a glass of chocolate milk without seeing his face
After you can't watch a historical drama without hearing his name
After your favorite musical that you went to see with him is now connected to his laugh
After he sits you down at midnight and tells you it's over
After he spent the whole day holding your hand, telling you he loves you
After he lied, when he said he would never let you go
After all that, when all you have left is an acorn in your pocket