Residue


Giant stickers, once won or gifted, have now found themselves smattered ‘cross the case around my inward rhythm keeper.

You were the redundantly heart-shaped piece I put over top. Loud and proud, front and center, my quirky centerpiece forever.

Then the colors started to look different.
Then the edges started to peel.

Smooth, smooth out the edges!
Stay.
If this gets peeled off, too much goes with it.

Yet the still small voice in the chamber just upstairs says these surfaces will never gel.

So, I procrastinate a relocation until I run out of tools.

There was nothing left to do but loosen my white-knuckled grip and begin to peel.

Everything ripped apart for weeks.

I began to scrape, that continued to bruise me.

Then I took a break, and decided to breathe.

Once stepping back to look at my compass’s accessories, I notice healing and an outline of where the centerpiece used to be. A thin film growing darker, and so I dive with intentions to remove. Sticky… and under each fingernail, marking my hands, reminding me, “What’s left will never truly be erased.”

And so I leave it. I leave the guarded mess in my chest alone and accept that for the time being, I shall rest. Can’t get you off, out, or through whatever this is. We have echoes and you are a delightful shadow; your love is residue.

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