Loose ends.

I won't play it.


I'll put it back in the corner of my bedroom where it has spent the last four years. I'll occasionally pick it up and strum it as if I know what I'm doing. I'll dust it when the dust is noticeable.

Or, maybe I will tuck it away in the closet for a while. It will remind me of you and right now that is the last thing I want.

It wasn't a gift; it was on loan. The only terms of the agreement? Us being together. It was the one thing in your apartment that proved I was ever there, that I existed in your life.

But I don't anymore.

So, it's not about getting it back so I can play it. It's about you having everything else-- the upper hand, everything on your terms, the ability to turn things around on me, to make me feel guilty and ashamed for reacting to problems you created.

You can keep all of that. But you don't get to have the guitar, too.