Amy E. Hall

What Happened to My Marriage

It was as if
we were on a mountain top –
beautiful view, serene scene,
solid footing –
and then,
all of the sudden,
your new best friend
showed up
and the two of you
parachuted off
the mountain together,
leaving me utterly alone.
The moment you left the mountain,
an earthquake erupted,
causing the ground to
disappear from under me.
Ever since, I’ve been clinging
to a tree root on the side of the mountain;
trying not to die.

The Kitchen

I’m standing in the kitchen;
what was our kitchen.
You had a baking nook
in our kitchen,
a nook in which you prepared
homemade pizza and
gourmet cheesecake.
We shredded the mozzarella
by hand, always saving a
little bit for our puppy dog,
so you could pour a pile
onto the floor for her to enjoy –
the same floor on which
we would occasionally drop
ice cubes, which she would
promptly grab in her mouth
and relocate to the living room
rug to chomp on.
Now the kitchen is quiet.
There is no more
homemade cheesecake
or cheese on the floor
or a doggie to eat it.
There is no more you.
There is no more Us.

Teeming with Loneliness

I miss being a team,
a feeling you don’t understand,
because you teamed up
with someone else
well before our divorce
was final.

Caught Flat-Footed

I was all in.
You were the only one
on my dance card.
But it often felt like
you had one foot in
and one foot out.

Twelve years into our marriage,
you started playing footsie
with someone else,
followed by the hokey pokey.

Before I knew it,
you put your whole self in
with your new best friend.

You always were
a dancer at heart.
I just assumed that
you would always be my partner.

Timing

It's been nearly nine months
since you told me that you
weren't in love with me
and considered our marriage
to be over,
nearly three months since you
moved out of our house, and
nearly two months since
the divorce was final.
I still think about you
all day, every day.
Even after all the damage
you have done, I'm still
in love with you.
And I loathe you
for destroying our family.

Housebroken

It’s heartbreaking
to live in our house
without you.

Every Little Thing

I miss all of our
everyday traditions –
calling baked potatoes “tates,”
enjoying
“Whoppers on the Waterfront,”
and taking family trips
in the car – just us and the pooch.
I miss seeing you bounce
and bee bop on the couch
to music just for fun.
I miss our inside jokes,
our daily family routines,
and our 16-year history,
a history that made me feel
safe and grounded and wanted.
I miss everything.
I miss you.
I miss Us.

A Penny for Your Thoughts

Every time I trim my fingernails,
I think of our precious puppy dog
who would drop everything
and sprint into the bathroom
when she heard me trimming my nails.
I’m not exactly sure what she was
hoping to do, but she wanted to be
as close to the action as possible.
Doggone, do I miss her…

Different Philosophies on Giving

I gave you the best years of my life –
31 through 47 –
and then you gave me the heave-ho.

Another Goodbye

I remember how ecstatic
our beloved doggie got
when she heard me
refilling her food storage container.
She would race down the stairs
as fast as caninely possible
to be as close to the food
as she possibly could,
hoping that I might spill a few
kibbles, or pour a pile
on the floor for an impromptu snack.
Tomorrow, I will take the container
to Goodwill, as she is no longer here,
in what was our house.

From 100 to 0

How do you stop
loving someone?
How do you go from
talking with someone
every day, sharing every day
with them, and operating as a team
100% of the time
to
zero, nothing, nada, zilch?

One

You had so many names
during our 16 years together –
One, Bahboo, Baby, BB, Honey,
Babe, Sweet Feet, One Two,
Lover, Baby One, B1, Bee Bop…
Now, you only have one name:
Ex.

Haunted House

I’m haunted by the
ghosts of my former spouse and
precious puppy pie.

A Figment Among the Footage

Now, you seem like
a phantom,
a fragment,
a figment
of my imagination.
But, I have 16 years of
photos and footage and
an entire house of
evidence and artifacts
documenting that
we were,
in fact,
a “we.”

Happy Halloween

I’m sitting in a rented cabin
in Saugatuck, Michigan,
thinking of you
in Dallas, Texas; wondering
if you are thinking of me.

Inside Out

Why can’t I dig you
out of my heart
like a cantaloupe’s seeds
so that I can rid myself
of the pain and the memories
and the utter devastation,
and move on to
enjoy the sweet fruit of life?

Fire and Ice

Everything hurts.
Every second I see
something you bought,
we bought, together,
my heart burns.
Even the frozen fruit
you bought for us
and left behind
in the freezer
kindles the fire in my chest.

What Good Is It to Keep Me Alive at the Beginning Only to Kill Me at the End?

You told me that
we kept each other alive
during our first
few years together –
during the years that
we lost everything
and everyone.
But, 16 years later,
you walked out on me
and left me to die
in our big house alone –
the house that you picked out,
the house that you outfitted
with the things that you wanted;
the house that has your fingerprints
all over it.
So, I am left here to die alone,
surrounded by every reminder of you
and the fact that you left me here.

Divorce Deflation

The presence of a
healthy spouse
enlarges your life,
expanding your personhood
into a more well-rounded state.
And when they
divorce you,
you are forced to
fold in on yourself,
squeezing out
the expansion of
heart and soul
that you previously enjoyed,
in order to survive the pain.

Beeping and Barking

Whenever I hear the neighbor
backing his truck into his
driveway, I think of our puppy,
who always barked ferociously
when she heard his truck beeping.

You are
never coming
home again.

CR-V

Every time I see a
dark red CR-V,
I will forever
think of you
and Us.

Laundry Basket

We used to argue
all the time about
sharing the laundry basket.
We finally got a second one
and enjoyed relative peace
on that front.
Now, you’re gone
but your laundry basket
remains behind
just like me.

Junk Drawer

We’ve been amassing
our junk drawer
for 13 years – through
two apartments, one condo
and one house,
our house.
Its contents
tell the story,
our story.
Wednesday, you are leaving
it all – our junk drawer,
our house, our life – behind.

Legally Separated

We used to keep our
legal documents together
in our safe box.
Now, my files are in our
safe box alone
and yours are in an
orange folder
waiting to move to Texas
with you.

How?

How am I supposed to share a home
with you and every day together for
13 years
and then, all of the sudden,
never see you again?

How am I supposed to live in our home –
the house you picked out –
with you every day
and then, all of the sudden,
live alone here without you?

How am I supposed to live in our home –
a house filled with the things that we lovingly
curated and carefully collected together –
surrounded by everything that belongs here
except for you?

The Unraveling

I feel the tug on the seams
of our marriage,
as, thread by thread,
we unravel the tapestry of Us
that we’ve woven together
over the last 16 years.

All Hollows’ Eve

My heart has been
hollowed out
like an October pumpkin.

Jazz Poetry

Aja Monet: Tiny Desk Concert The Tiny Desk blooms with the stanzas, sounds and legacy of jazz poetry.

Phantom Heart Syndrome

I no longer have a heart,
but a cavern in my chest
glowing with pain.