Chest of Novocain

Maybe if I fill my chest with Novocain this ache will go away.
"They didn't even fight for me."  I think as I stifle another sob.  The deep red sunset mirrors the drop of blood forming on my lip where my teeth hold on tight, fighting to keep the sound inside.

Nothing matters as long as they can't hear me.  They can't know I'm drowning in tears and shattered memories.

It was one second.  The one second I've been dreading since they let go.  Since I cut the cord.  I saw them all together, smiling, happy, going about their lives as though we didn't just fall apart.  I could've handled that.  I suppose.

But I didn't count on the comic book store to slam my heart against my rib cage like it was trying to escape.  That was too much.  Too much emptiness.  Too much missing them.  Too much of my past reminding me how little I have in my present.

They didn't fight.  They let me walk away.  They didn't bat an eye at my accusations.  They acted like our falling apart wasn't going to shatter them the way it shattered me.

I would've fought for them, had the circumstances been reversed.  I would've agreed to any terms.  But they didn't even give me a chance.  They didn't fight for us.  For me.  For themselves.

Don't I deserve to be fought for?
Am I not enough on my own?
Am I that replaceable?
Am I so insignificant that I could disappear tomorrow and no one would notice my absence?

They didn't fight back.  Like everyone before them, they told me they loved me and then they left.  Because love is just a word.  And words are just pretty lies, no matter how you fashion them.