Bubblewrap

I remember the first time you told me to bubble wrap your little ornaments,
I packed your things and gave you a kiss at the door,
Four months of calls and letters; you were mine again,
I threw away the bubble wrap, unknowing I’d need it again.

I remember the thanksgiving meal, you told me you had to go again,
I keep a straight face, for the both of us. Inside the pain was creeping,
I scratch nails down the sides of my face, wishing the problem away,
I wrapped that same ornament with fresh bubble wrap.

I remember hearing the doorbell that Thursday night,
The whiskey bottles empty - the ashtrays full,
My heart would flutter, but my mind was numb,
Stumbling through the hallways for another drink.

I remember our anniversary, your old calendar finally had some use,
I can’t remember the last time I heard your voice,
Maybe I dreamt you up, maybe you aren’t real,
Maybe my feelings are so frozen, I don’t know what’s real.

I remember seeing my hands covering my face, from the disorder I lived in,
I’d pierced my eyes so I couldn’t see, if I had the will left in me,
I can’t remember the last time you were at my side,
I don’t think you’re coming home.