petty

something about the breaking in breaking up makes me feel petty. makes me feel owed. makes me forget that i did those things because i wanted to then. i can't take it back now. i can't collect back rent from those days in providence. i can't take back the futon i gave him even if he puts it in storage so he can buy a bed. it's not about being fair. shit's not fair or unfair. right or unright. it just is. and i am not petty. say what you say. and i feel petty. i am not always this way.

and i miss things like grocery shopping together. like roasting chestnuts and buying the mull spices for cider we would never even make. and i miss the familiarity of those holidays. and i wouldn't go back if i could. and i wouldn't take it back if you made me. and i don't want that life again.

but it is christmas time. and it is gray. and the sky reminds me of those hardest days.

sleeping on my side. a pillow holding my thighs from the drain. the pulse of the hematoma so strong it kept me flat in bed.

and it is christmas time. and try as i might i can't pretend things like santa claus and holy children anymore. and it all seems so rushed.

and i wanted an advent calendar and a wreath for my door and instead i have a divorce proceeding and a list of chores.