The Break Up Part Two (Rough Draft)

Well the irony isn't lost on me. For the past few months i've been huffing and puffing about getting some time off. And here I am finished exams and with a couple days off work. And i've been BORED. And I slept in until 2:30pm today! So now it is 1 am and i'm wondering where the day went.

I did some writing for "The Break Up" series. It's a little series about a couple that has broken up. Really I have no direction for it in mind. But I'm always telling myself I should start a mini-series. This is because I'm genuinely concerned that all I can write in life is poetry. I need to show myself that I can produce structured pieces of writing that connect with one another. Before I share this I must stress that this is a rough piece of writing. I plan on polishing this whole series over the course of the holidays. With a hopeful end product at the end of january.

The approach I wanted to take with this piece was switching to the perspective of the woman in Devon's life. It  begins right as she runs from his apartment after his fateful words "It's not all about you"

So here's something to read. A (rough) continuation of The Break Up

I had heard the words. But the meaning took an extra couple of seconds to kick in. Similar to the pain one experiences being stung by a wasp.

I had a habit of running away from my problems. When I was young I would fight with my mother over any little thing. When the emotions reached a certain point I would burst from the house with a flushed face heading in no particular direction. The irony was not lost on me. I was tired of Devon’s nightly walks with no direction in mind. And there I was running down the brightly lit street of Corydon as if I had escaped from a cage.

It wasn’t the walks. I understood that in a way. It wasn’t the walks. It was the coldness. It was the blank stare when everything mattered most. The walks were just part of Devon’s slow separation from me.

I had calmed down enough to sit down. Slightly amazed at the distance I had covered. I was in a strange place. This was it. I was single and in a strange place. We had fought before. I had run away before. But today the words, the steps, and the atmosphere-it all carried a different meaning. I knew it was over. I shivered slightly at the thought of it. It wasn’t my first break up. And I knew the routine. The tipsy phone calls, the returning of all our stuff, and the tears. Thick frustrating tears shed while my friends sympathetically clutched my shoulders. They whispered fond words in my ears while silently praying their relationship wouldn’t crumble like mine.

I couldn’t help but remember the moment I had realized Devon’s heart was somewhere else. I had awoken late one night for no apparent reason. I realized Devon was out of bed and assumed he was in the bathroom. I waited for awhile before deciding to check what he was up to. I crept down the hall slowly. I had a feeling that what I was going to find would be horrific. My mind raced wildly with gruesome possibilities. I turned the corner to the living room and saw him. He sat there with a single lamp on. His body was illuminated against the light and cast a long narrow shadow against the wall. He was in a t-shirt and underwear slouched on the couch. In his hands he held a photograph. Or what seemed like it. He just sat there staring at it. And I stood in the far corner of the room unnoticed.

“Devon…?” I whispered.

He slowly looked up. And what I remember most about his face was those eyes. They were cold and lifeless. They held a sadness that reminded me of my father. After my father separated from my mother he would often sit up late at night. I could often hear him mumbling and sobbing from my bedroom. I didn’t dare approach him in those times. I knew those eyes. Those eyes were meant for those who had lost something significant in life. They scared me.

“Get out of here” His words shook me from my thoughts

“Wh..what?”

“I said get the fuck out of here!”

And I turned and ran down the hallway. It all seemed like a dream, the way the hall way stretched and my feet felt heavy. It took hours for my heart to stop pounding and finally I found sleep. The following morning I awoke and ventured back into the living room. Devon had fallen asleep curled up on the couch. I saw the photograph lying on the ground. It must have fallen out of his hand. I crept towards him, the outburst from the night before still vivid in my mind.

However I didn’t need to get very close. The hair, the eyes and the smile answered my question. Devon had been looking at a photograph of his ex lover.