The coffee table is where it all began

The wooden coffee table with its steel legs

And cracked edges

You let me “borrow” it

And I ended up keeping it until 4 years later when we moved to a different city together

The coffee table I think of had a chess board inside that I never chose to play on

The coffee table I think of never had tea or even a coffee cup on it, not even once

What it did have was:

Stains of juice

Blood from ouchies

Food crumbs from the nights we’d get high and stuff our faces with McDoubles and fries

Dents from the nights we’d fight, and you trashed the house with your jealousy and anger

Even deeper cracks that formed from the high-pitched screams of laughing children and screaming adults

Two adults living in depression and anxiety together

Finding peace in each other even when we couldn’t really stand one another

I guess I really miss that coffee table.

But missing that coffee table means I have to let you back in

Missing that coffee table means going through all the things we went through before

Missing that coffee table means giving my entire self and being crushed and shoved back into the pits of hell again and this time not being able to make it back out

Missing that coffee table must not be in my life path

And so I think missing that coffee table just means I need a new one