Marks

Marks

You always knew how to leave your mark. You left another coffee cup ring on the friggin table. I try to remember how many times I’ve sanded, stained and polished this thing because you refuse to use a coaster. And, the way you keep your clothes in the closet; half on the hanger, bunched in balls on the floor, crammed into those vacuum sucked plastic bags. You call it ‘storage’. In case you gain or lose weight, you can always go back to the old fats or skinnies without shopping for a whole new wardrobe. It’s infuriating! It’s not storage. It’s just a horrible mess.

But, now that you’re gone, I refuse to fix anything. I trace the white ring on the table with my finger for hours sometimes.  Each breath feels like a sucking belly wound. Each memory is a brick to the back of my skull. Clothes are still scattered all over  the closet. The ironing board you left in the middle of the bedroom walkway sits as a monument to you. I can’t move anything. I didn’t even wash the dishes you left piled in the sink until it became an obvious health hazard.

Strange, I’d give every drop of my blood to find one of your workout T-shirts stuffed behind the toilet, or, even one of those coffee stirring spoons you’d leave on the counter until the light brown stains were permanent. I have always been a bit of a neat-freak. You were always the most beautiful mess I’d ever gotten myself into. Now, I find myself praying that your old stains won’t fade before I do, and I fight off moths that eat at your crumpled clothes like demons who’ve come in the night to nibble away at my frayed and stained soul. You always knew how to leave your mark. I’m just so sorry for all the marks I wiped away.

Author's Note

still working on this one. it's about my uncle who lost his wife. hard one to write. harder to edit for some reason.

Reviews

[Ruth]

I think this is wonderfully done love...the intro leads the reader into something far from what the rest of this piece does :) A seriously powerful imagery love...those things we take for granted as anyone does when they love and live together aren't always going to be there and one day when they are not....we want them to last forever!
I remember this sort of thing when my father died and my mother wanted everything left where it was, so I understand this piece...
I like it because it is real xoxo

[Aka.Hipster]

This is an amazing piece and so true that its able to get understand on a personal level. Thank you for sharing this wonderful piece I love it!

[roarke]

I see this piece as one of realization and closure. Both come from overlooked or unexpected sources. To get a grip on it and reveal it to others is of miracles.
The perspective is powerful in it's common simplicity. I wouldn't over work this one, it's in the rawness that the power of the message is conveyed. Bravo.

[Amy Bumpas]

I really love this...I was enthralled, and really felt the emotion and
pain on this one. I really love these last lines:You were always the most beautiful mess I’d ever gotten myself into. Now, I find myself praying that your old stains won’t fade before I do, and I fight off moths that eat at your crumpled clothes like demons who’ve come in the night to nibble away at my frayed and stained soul. You always knew how to leave your mark. I’m just so sorry for all the marks I wiped away.



Yes, it is really hard to remove those marks that stain our souls....

[.]

gosh that was bloody terrific..the angle that you came in to show how loss is looked at..I felt that, every single word..you breathed life into death and gave us a painful look through those eyes..stunning and a fave

[What happened to simple..]

This is incredible mate, a 'stop in your tracks' write.

[Kerry O'Connor]

"You were always the most beautiful mess I’d ever gotten myself into."
Now that is a declaration of love, if ever I saw one. This piece is characteristically devoid of sentiment - just so sincere, and honest - a blend of anger and sorrow at loss, being left behind and having a gap so wide, not even oxygen can fill it up.

[Robin]

blood and guts poetry , 'brick to the back of the skull ' only it doesnt give you the courtesy of rendering you unconcious .

I can relate to this all too well ,,,

[SkinlessFrank]

i know this feeling. One of the reasons that I stay in my present home, long past the time when it suits me, is because of all those "marks". I've always known this at the back of my mind, but it's liberating to read about it in someone else's words.

[Emily B]

I don't think it needs editing . . . just saying

it's heart-rending