ELEGY Poem: Confrontation and a Damn Cat, by Francisco Romero

Hey,

It’s probably my fault. Mostly yours,come to think of it. Still seems a little weird because there was no boiling point for me. No moment of blind rage that feeds the fire of rash decisions and harsh words. It was just a momentary revelation: why am I doing this? I already felt that the willing joy of loving you now feels like a chore. Like I had to love you because it elevated my own sense of self-worth; I am a good person because I love someone. But what’s the point of adding extra chores to one’s life? What started out as a symphony morphed into a chaotic cacophony that left
every nerve in my Being frayed and raw. Simply put; you get on my nerves. The little quirks like clicking the end of a pen against your chin as you poured over a Sudoku puzzle, the faint sigh every time you stood up from a chair, the gallons of creamer you added to your coffee. All of those things that raised you up in my mind to be one of the greatest creatures on Earth now makes me want to burn the damn house down.

It wasn’t always like that, of course. New relationships always come packaged brightly with a pretty little bow on them. Then we start to reveal the things not mentioned in the brochures of our past. The eccentricities are actually neurotic tendencies that festered in the invisible baggage we both brought on this journey. But as the bags slowly unpack themselves we find the question of, “Is this something I can live with?”, popping up more and more.

I have a lot for which to be grateful. You helped me with my writing and finding my voice. You helped me with my fears of confrontation (which aren’t going so well, hence, this letter). And while I have advanced in writing, the voice I’ve found seems to only say, ‘I hate the idea of us.’ I guess in a way, this is my Declaration of Independence. I hope it sparks no war. Just two people moving things out of a house at separate times to avoid speaking. You can have the lamps and coffee table. You can also take the shower curtain. Leave me the bookshelf and the framed tickets from the Ben Folds concert. That was our second date. It was at an outdoor venue and I remember you taking my hoodie from the backseat and putting it on. I’m gonna need that hoodie back, too. Anyway, that’s all I have.

Being a writer, I thought it would be easier this way. No confrontation (still not ready for that) and no awkward banter. God bless the written word. It gives us a chance to say what we really feel and the reader can’t interrupt or argue with it. They are a captive audience whose responses are only heard by the walls of an empty home and maybe the cat. I hated that cat, by the way. Well, stay safe and I wish you all the best. The cat, however, can burn in Hell.

~ Me